


Fix Your Eyes On Me, You'll See The Dawn Again

by adia90



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Stubborn!Anne, We'll get there, set after 3x09
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 38,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21540100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adia90/pseuds/adia90
Summary: Five years ago, he had left her with a broken heart.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Winifred Rose, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Roy Gardner/Anne Shirley
Comments: 504
Kudos: 699





	1. Chapter 1

There is so much to be done, although the summer is approaching, by the heat that is blatant on her back. She has just bid her student to a memorable summer the week before, but already she is feeling the days are dragging on for too long. Usually her days would revolve around the school; she would be there from dawn til almost dusk, preparing lesson plans for the ever expanding classes.

She is so proud of what Avonlea has become. From her schooling days, more and more parents are starting to believe the goodness what a proper education could bring. Provincial department of education was created and Anne is elected to be in charge of Summerside High School, while overlooking the smaller Avonlea school. 

A new teacher is arriving in a few days to take over the Avonlea school and together with the new educator, the two of them are going to work on improving the passing rate for the college entrance exam. 

It brings a smile to her face every time, for she is grateful for Miss Stacey during the final two years of her schooling, instead of having the bear with the dreadful Mr. Philips. 

Anne pulls the collar from the back of her neck, which is sticky from her sweat. She sighs. Summer brings longer days and lovely beach trips, however summer is most often too hot and too sticky, especially in her ‘proper’ adult blouses. Oh, to be as liberal as Miss Stacey used to be without her corset! Marilla would be horrified!

She skips the staircase and places her picnic basket to the side, before knocking once on the door, looking forward to having the morning with her niece, Delphine. She has promised to bring the little girl for a walk in the forest. “Dellie, auntie Anne is here!” she calls, opening the door as she is used to, being a frequent visitor that she is. She collides into a taller body and she giggles, thinking it is Bash she has run into.

Instead, a man from her past with the most vivid hazel eyes, smirks down at her. 

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” he breaths. “It has been awhile.”


	2. Chapter 2

Startled, she almost tumbles backward, before a pair of strong arms wrap around her. Their eyes locked on each other, and Anne could feel her heart beating out of sync. _What is he doing here? _

She realises his warm arms still wrapped around her, and she pushes on his chest gently to be released. Gilbert settles her on her feet cautiously, his smirk fades into a tentative smile. She mumbles a quiet _thank you._

Awhile is an understatement. Awhile has been five years ago, since his departure to Sorbonne. The tragical romance of her youth, which she has sworn she’s definitely over about. 

“What are you doing here? Where’s Bash and Muriel?” she blurts, before wincing. Although he has been gone half a decade, he still owns part of the orchard, that much she knows. 

Gilbert chuckles. He reaches up to rub behind his neck, a gesture that used to endear him to her. “They are in the orchard. And I do live here, Anne,” he replies teasingly. 

“I thought home is France nowadays,” she replies, an eyebrow raised. _With your gorgeous wife and your perfect life,_ she thinks wistfully. 

His smile wavers a little. “France was just for my education, Anne. The island is always home. And I’m home, for good,” he replies, adding his last sentence as an afterthought. 

Anne feels like her heart being squeezed in a tightly-closed fist. It was okay dealing with her buried hopes when he was continents away, but to see him back with his family to this island? 

She looks down at her feet, trying to arrange her thoughts. “Welcome home,” she mumbles, looking up to him with a small smile. He’s looking at her with a curious, almost hopeful look, which she refuses to interpret. “I’m here to take Dellie on a walk,” she continues, all business-like. Good for him to be back, but it should be no skin off her nose. 

She steps backward, realising it improper to be in his house uninvited. His eyes widen at her exit, and tugs on her wrist to stop her. “She’s getting ready in her room.”

She looks down warily at his hold and tugs slightly. Gilbert releases her wrist, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t mind waiting outside,” she says, without waiting a reply.

She tries to empty her thoughts, fully refusing to think about a certain man, who is currently moving around in the house. Still so handsome, curls slicked back now. Shoulders wider too. His chest… strong and sturdy. She could smell traces of sandalwood and forest, must be courtesy of Paris, and Winifred. She closes her eyes to combat the feelings, imagining the ocean and the waves, anticipating her visit to the cliffs. The sound of the water hitting the rocks almost always bring a certain calm to her soul. 

“Auntie Anne! I have missed you!” 

Her eyes blink open and she breaks into a smile, her heart lightening at the sight of Delphine, so pretty in her red checkered dress. Her curly hair is tied with a ribbon, a gift from her auntie Anne for her birthday last summer. Anne bends down to envelop the little girl into a tight hug. “I have missed you too, my little bluebell!”

“Did you remember to make my favorite chocolate muffin?” Delphine asks excitedly.

Anne nods, tucking a stray curl behind the girl’s ear. “Of course. With topping and sprinkles too!” 

Delphine claps excitedly, before turning around to tug the hand of the man standing behind her. He has been a silent spectator for the past few minutes, only a wistful smile on his handsome face. “Auntie Anne, I believe you have met my Unca Gil? He just came back from a place called France, which is very very far. He’s a doctor, that means he treats sick people!” says the little girl, proudly displaying her favorite uncle to her favorite aunt. 

Anne smiles a little at the innocence portrayed by her niece. “Yes, my bluebell. I have met your Uncle Gil.”

“Can Unca Gil join us?” Delphine asks. “He would be awfully lonely at home. Besides, he has told papa and mama Muriel he would be joining us.”

She opens her mouth to decline the girl gently, when Gilbert says, “I’d be most honoured to escort you ladies for the picnic.”

_What of Winifred? Wouldn’t she mind? Or is she coming with us? Am I ready to meet her?_ The man peers at her directly, his eyes challenging her to say no. 

She peers inside the house, expecting someone, anyone, to come out, to do something. To put a stop to this nonsense. To whack her across the head and wake her up from this nightmare. Something.

Gilbert catches her eyes and smiles innocently. "Just the three of us now," he implies. 

Anne sighs. Gone were the days of her endless tirade and she finds it is not worthy of her time to argue anymore. Least of all with him.

Her basket exchanged hands and off they go.

The journey to the forest of enchantments is filled with Delphine’s stories about her father’s failed attempt at baking blueberry scones for tea yesterday. Anne listens in delight as Delphine regals how her father’s scones turned out to be so hard and inedible that she almost lost a tooth biting into one. All the while ignoring the man walking next to Delphine.

What do you say to a man who has been away for the past five years? They might as well be strangers.

They arrive by the Lake of Shining Waters and Delphine leads them to their usual tree. The adults work silently to place the blanket and setting up the picnic. They eat as the adults entertain their charge, Anne being mindful to avoid crossing hands with Gilbert. The last thing she needs is to be touching him.

“This is where auntie Anne and I always sit and rest, Unca Gil. Isn’t the lake so marvelously pretty?” Delphine remarks, starry-eyed looking at her uncle Gil. 

Gilbert nods, his eyes crinkling with his smile. “I believe your auntie Anne calls it the Lake of Shining Waters.”

Delphine’s eyes light up. “You are absolutely right! My word, you really know auntie Anne so well!”

Gilbert tries to meet her gaze but she averts her eyes to the excited child. “Dellie, auntie Anne and I are kindred spirits from before you were born.” 

Her eyes flash up to his smiling face. “That was a long time ago, Dellie. _You_ are my kindred spirit now.” She ignores the hurt look on his face. She is the ambassador of truth and not once is she going to deviate from her mission. 

She looks away and grabs the picnic basket, before holding out a hand to Delphine. “We must be away now, Dellie, before it gets too warm.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Why didn’t you tell me that Gilbert Blythe is back?”

Anne looks up from working on her sweet bread dough. “Is it imperative to mention about his return to you?” she asks sharply. 

Marilla looks at her in disbelief. The teacup she is holding shakes slightly before her adoptive mother places it back on the saucer. “He’s your-,” she stutters before inhaling deeply. “He’s Gilbert, your friend and our neighbor. I suppose it is quite pertaining to mention about it.”

Anne shrugs. “Gilbert Blythe is back. So now you know,” she informs listlessly. She could feel Marilla’s stare burning on her back. 

“Have you talked to that boy?” Marilla asks.

_Not a boy anymore_, Marilla. “I suppose. Although there was nothing much to talk about. We have each grown up, and perhaps, grown apart.” 

Marilla sighs. “Anne, he wrote to you. Every season, for the past five years.”

Silence. She pressed her knuckle extra deep into the dough. “I suppose I am not interested to read about his dalliances with his new friends and family since he wasn’t and isn’t a part of my life anymore.” 

* * *

Anne drops her satchel onto the desk with a thud, and settles herself on the chair unceremoniously. Being in Green Gables has been a test in her perseverance lately. 

What’s with Gilbert showing up out of nowhere giving Matthew and Alex, Jerry’s little brother, a helping hand with the crops. He would show up with a bunch of wildflowers, the prettiest shades of orange and red, and would tell her the flowers has reminded him of her. 

Once she was out by the well, drawing water when he reached from behind her to pluck the buckets from her hands, his hands brushing against hers.

The Cuthberts’ stock of firewood shall last them through winter now, with the amount stacked in the barn, thanks to one Gilbert Blythe. 

It has been two weeks and still no sign of Winifred. Maybe she is too classy to be associated with the people of Avonlea. Maybe she is waiting for him and arranging their home in Charlottetown. So many maybes and she doesn’t really give a toss about. 

Try as she might, there is no evading him, except for the days she has ample reasons to escape to the school building. 

And today, she happily skips to the school at first light. 

The substitute is scheduled to arrive today from Nova Scotia and far be it for her to present a cluttered classroom to her new colleague. He is going to replace her for half the semester before the new teacher arrives. She rolls up her sleeves and goes to work arranging the furniture, which has been neglected once school was out for summer. 

The clock strikes ten and she’s ready to welcome the substitute, when she realises that her dreamcatcher is still hanging on the wall. She is loathe to part from it, which was gifted by her good friend, Ka’kwet. 

Realising what a nuisance it is to take the ladder out of storage, she pushes a desk closer to the wall. She reaches down to pull off her stockings; she doesn’t fancy skidding down face first onto the floor. She climbs the desk carefully with the help of a chair, hiking her skirt up a little. 

The front door suddenly bursts open. “Hello! Anybody here?”

And Anne finds herself falling, falling, and anticipating her spine to make contact with the hard floor. 

Instead, she finds herself in the arms of a gentleman, again, the situation not dissimilar from the encounter a few weeks ago. 

But instead of dreamy hazel, amused deep greens are staring back at her. 

“Hello there. Pardon for scaring you. My name is Roy Gardner. You must be Miss Cuthbert. They didn’t warn me about how lovely my new colleague would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Mr. Gardner :)


	4. Chapter 4

The sight before him almost gives him a _l' arrêt du cœur_.

Gilbert rushes to her side, almost pushing the other man in the process, encircling her waist with his own arm. “Are you alright?” he demands, his eyes darting up and down her body, trying to find any sign of injury.

His love shakes her head, looking slightly befuddled. “I’m alright, Gilbert,” she speaks softly, her complexion pale. “I just need to sit down.” 

He guides her to the chair, where she tentatively sits down. He kneels down in front of her, and realises that she is barefoot, her dainty feet a silhouette under the billows of her skirt. Gilbert swallows a groan, his love is a temptress even when stunned out of her wits. “How about a glass of fresh apple juice, Anne? The sugar will help,” he offers. 

She nods quietly, her eyes still dazed. He imagines she is still dizzy from the fall. He goes to fetch the lunch basket when he hears Anne talking. 

“Terribly rude of me, Mr. Gardner. I apologise that you had to witness my ever clumsy predisposition. I thank you for saving me from a potential fortnight of backache.”

Gilbert watches as the man pulls off his hat and bows slightly, before taking Anne’s proffered hand and kisses the back of it, eliciting a gasp and a blush from Anne. The audacity!

“You are most welcome, Miss Cuthbert. It is my utmost pleasure to save the damsel in distress.”

Gilbert clears his throat, and the other man drops Anne’s hand gently. He bends down to offer the tumbler of apple juice to Anne, and for the first time in years, she rewards him with a grateful smile. 

“Mr. Gardner, meet Mr. Gilbert Blythe. He is my neighbor and family friend. Gilbert, meet Mr. Roy Gardner, the new substitute teacher for Avonlea.” He remembers a similar dispassionate introduction and almost cringes at how much it hurts. They exchange a handshake, he is aware of how grim he must have looked compared to the man who looks positively jovial. Probably at the lack of his personal attachment to the beautiful redhead in between them. 

“If you were to take your carriage around the school, I would be happy to show you your living quarters,” Anne says, standing up tentatively. He rushes to her side, afraid if she would have a syncopal attack. She offers him a small smile and shakes her head. 

Gardner looks at her for certainty. “I don’t mind waiting, Miss Cuthbert.”

She waves her hand, laughing a little. “It was only a little spill. I’m fine.”

“If you are sure.”

“I am.” 

Gardner steps out and it is only the two of them. He looks at her, who is averting his gaze, blushing. “Would you turn around for awhile, Gilbert? I need to put my stockings back on.” 

He obliges silently, the tips of his ears burning. Imagining the silky stockings being rolled up her smooth porcelain legs… He shakes his head slightly. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asks from behind him, he can hear rustling of heavy dresses.

“I brought you a lunch basket.”

Silence. “Thank you but I will be home by lunch, Gilbert.” 

He hears a bit more rustling and rubs the back of his neck. “About that. I’d like to invite you out for a picnic lunch,” he says. “I’d like to discuss certain things,” he adds, knowing how she may deflect if it is just an inane invitation. 

More pause. “You can turn around now.”

He turns, his heart pounding. _Please say yes, my love._

“Alright. Let me get Mr. Gardner settled.”

* * *

They are almost at the edge of Lovers’ Lane when she speaks up.

“I apologise if what I am about to say may sound ungrateful. It is not proper for us to go for walks, and for you to be bringing me lunch basket as some people would misunderstand,” she says, looking straight ahead.

He may have an idea of what she is saying, but he decides to play obtuse. “What do you mean, Anne?”

“Showing up in Green Gables, in my school. We are no longer in our school years, Gilbert. Whatever would Winifred think?” 

It is tough to accept that she has accepted his invitation not because she wants to be in his company. In fact, she is merely accepting of his request in order to turn down future advances. “Anne, I have no idea what Winifred would think, and personally, I don’t think she would care,” he replies tentatively. 

She stops in her walk, her face astounded. “How could you say that, Gilbert Blythe? Respectfully, you should care more about what your fiancee would think!”

The crux of the matter finally revealed. He stands straighter, his gaze unwavering. “Anne, she is not my fiancee. Do you think I would pursue another woman while being engaged to another?” he asks in disbelief. 

Her jaw drops, before she shakes her head. “You had a broken engagement and now you’re pursuing another?”

“I was never engaged before. Not ever. And let’s make it clear as I was not before, Anne. I’m pursuing _you_.”

Her confused face breaks his heart. “You’ve gone to Paris. For five years. With her.” She then cooks up something in the wondrous mind of hers and a realisation dawns upon her face. She shakes her head, and a sense of dread fills Gilbert’s heart. “How delightful! You are looking for a consolation prize!” She exclaims ruefully. 

He gasps in horror. “You are mistaken, Anne! You are not -“ 

“Enough!” She says sharply, stepping away from him, gathering her skirt. “I am no one’s charity case. Far be it from me to be someone’s consolation prize,” she continues firmly. “Please do not follow me, Mr. Blythe. I would like a respite from you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some characters might not be canon. Apologies.

A respite? A respite? 

He has given her five years, he is not going to give her a respite. 

But Anne is the mistress of avoidance when she puts her head to it. He has been to Green Gables every day for the last two weeks since that thwarted talk and not once he was able to catch her home. 

“Marilla, I have half a mind to kidnap your daughter and force her hand to marry me,” he states his case, frustrated on how magically Anne keeps on disappearing from her own home. 

Marilla’s eyes widen. “Gilbert Blythe!” she gasps, then looks at him dryly. “Do not assume she would relent to you without screaming and kicking away.” 

He chuckles ruefully. “I would not dare assume otherwise.” He looks up to face the woman, who is almost like a mother to him. “Do you think she still loves me?” He asks, his voice small. 

Marilla sighs. She looks like she is trying to construct the best sentence to relay to him. “Anne has a lot of love to give. She may not be in love with you as much as she was while the both of you were still in school, but I know my Anne. She would not be as affected by you if she does not love you at all.” 

Gilbert clasps his hands together, looking down at his feet. Does he regret Sorbonne? No, he does not. He is sure that Anne does not begrudge him his education. His only regret was not being able to find her to straighten things out before he had departed for Paris five years ago. 

After his pilgrimage through the places that once held dear by Anne, he had come to a decision that he could not marry another while still in love with her, and he could not foresee if his love for her would end anytime soon. He had been willing to wait for her and openly woo her, no matter her rebuff. He had always given his best in life: in pursuit of his education, his business, and it seemed sad that he had lacked the courage to pursue his love to the best of his abilities. 

So he had gone to Charlottetown to apologise to the Roses for rejecting their invitation and to personally apologise to Winifred for stringing her along. Winifred had chuckled at him and thanked him for being so honest as she was also not in a hurry to get married, and truth be told, not in love with him. 

Was he ever grateful to hear that a woman was not infatuated with him! That might be the first occurrence in mankind, for a man not to be disappointed to not be the centre of a woman’s affection, ever. 

But the Roses were steadfast in sponsoring his studies to Sorbonne. If at all to become a chaperone for their daughter, as they were finally relenting to her persuasion to be enrolled as a physician’s student herself. 

He had run home to Avonlea to inform Anne about the news, and to beg her to give him a chance, and perhaps, if she would grant him, time until he completed his studies. 

To his dejection, he had arrived at Green Gables only to learn that Anne had sailed with Matthew and Aunt Jo to Nova Scotia to fight for Ka’kwet and other Native Indian friends. How he had longed to join her, but he was to set sail to Paris the next day. 

Instead, he had conveyed his hopes and dreams to Marilla, praying that the woman would favor him and help him in the quest to win his love’s heart. 

“I appreciate your positivity, but how could you be sure that she has loved me before? Enough to marry me, and not as a mere friend? She doesn’t even regard me as her kindred spirit anymore, Marilla,” he laments. 

“She had confessed to me and Matthew, a few days before you left. She had gone to your place to tell you herself, but you were not home. She had left a note, and even visited you again, but the next time she was told that you were in Charlottetown, assuming you were to propose.”

He runs a hand through his curls, frustration clear on his face. “I did not get said note, Marilla. Are you telling me, there was a piece of paper that existed in this world where Anne has confessed her love to me?” he pleads.

Marilla nods sadly. “When you did not show up and she was told that you had left for Charlottetown, she concluded that you did not care for her love.” 

He is stricken with agony. The miscommunication of it all! “I only went to apologise to the Roses. I was very intent on giving my mother’s ring to Anne even before I was offered the place to Sorbonne.”

Marilla looks at the young man in front of him, understanding his heartache. “My Anne is not the type to moon about a man without reasons, Gilbert. She was in love with you for your steadfastness in your studies and your life. She also admired how you respect a person regardless of their origins, and she loved that you always put her as your equal. You haven’t lost any of those qualities, my dear boy. And I believe, you will win her heart again. You just have to be patient. Just a little bit more.” 


	6. Chapter 6

He walks quietly to Green Gables, a bunch of wildflower reminiscing of Anne’s fiery tresses in his hand. He has plucked them with utmost care, hoping to present them to her personally, as opposed to leaving them to Marilla as the days prior. 

He is trying to win the game of her creation; therefore he wakes up before the rooster crows to prepare for his chore with Jerry. Matthew is slowly retiring his duties to Jerry as per Anne’s command. They have talked about hiring Alex, Jerry's brother, as Jerry has managed to gather enough savings to buy land of his own. 

He passes the barn on the way to the main house and hears a sweet voice singing. He chuckles as he peers inside, seeing Anne milking the cow, serenading the animals softly with her song. He is acutely aware that she is still in her sleeping gown, her red hair in a messy ribbon on her left shoulder.

The years have turned his Anne from a lovely girl into a stunning woman. She is looking so devastatingly beautiful Gilbert could feel his heart aching. 

He lurks for a few moments longer, smiling softly at her voice, finding calm within the morning activity. Her neck slightly exposed, the top two button of her nightgown left open, most probably due to the humid weather. How he longs to lay a gentle kiss on the willowy neck, trail his lips along the constellation of freckles on her cheeks and her nape. 

Feeling like a cad, he coughs a little, trying to warn her of his presence. She stops singing, her hands pulling the teats on the udder pausing. She turns on her perch, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. 

She stands up quickly, almost losing her footing. “Gilbert Blythe, what on earth are you doing here this early?” she whisper-shouts, mindful of her elders who are still sleeping inside the house. 

Gilbert hastens his steps to hold her up from stumbling. “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, good morning to you too,” he replies, smiling, his free hand around her waist. He peers down onto her face, fresh from a scrub, her hair smelling of lilies. So enraptured he is by her, he instinctually leans forward to sniff along her hairlines. “You smell so divine, Anne,” he breathes, his eyes closed. 

He feels her palms on his chest and pushed away from her being. His eyes snapped open.

“I would appreciate it if you don’t act so familiar with me, Gilbert Blythe,” she scolds, her cheeks blazing red. “You should know better!”

Sheepish, he tips his head down. “I’m sorry, Anne. But I lose control of myself when I am around you. I have missed you, so much,” he whispers reverently, his lips upturned into a smile. 

“Well, I can’t say the same for myself, so I would appreciate it if you could turn around and be scarce,” she scolds hotly, crossing her arms in front of herself. 

Gilbert blushes, realising how scandalous it may appear, lurking around when a maiden is in her night dress. _A maiden you intend on marrying. No harm in looking_, the devil whispers. He shakes his head and turns on his heels. “I am sorry,” he mutters, the tips of his ears burning. 

He hears movements and fabrics rustling, quiet neighing from the horses and clucking from the chicken. A throat clear later, he hesitantly turns on his feet, and feels slightly disappointed to see her gown buttoned up and a blanket around her shoulder. 

“You should remember not to simply barge in to our house. I had no problem doing my chores in the morning before. I should hate to dress up just to milk the cows if you continue being so free around here,” she speaks firmly.

He peers at her face, without any of the passionate glare that is trademark of her. His heart aches; it is better to be hated than to be forgotten, as is so obvious on her expressionless face. 

He shrugs, pulling a petal of a wild pink rose from the bunch in his hand. “By all means, Miss Cuthbert, no one is stopping you from doing just so,” he says nonchalantly. And pulls off another petal. 

She harrumphs, her cheeks coloring the wonderful shade he loves so much. “What do you mean? I cannot be doing just that if you keep on appearing out of nowhere!”

“Why not?” he asks innocently. 

“Why not?? Why not??” she repeats, anger filling her voice. “Although I am not much to look at, I still have propriety and dignity, Mr. Blythe,” she exclaims, before pushing him away to pass through. 

Gilbert’s eyes widen. “I did not mean that, Anne!” he stutters, trying to catch up with her, only to have her slamming the kitchen door in his face.

Not much to look at?! Is the woman daft? 

He exhales. Will he ever articulate to her how immensely in love he is with her?


	7. Chapter 7

Anne wipes the fresh tears running down her face. 

Truly. The last time she had cried over a boy was five years ago. She had said her goodbyes to him, in spirit, letting him go from her heart and her soul. But why is he still affecting her so?

She stares at her reflection in the mirror in front of her. Many times when she was a mere girl, Marilla had scolded her for her vanity. Her hair, the bane of her existence, has always been the cause of her despair. Although she does not possess such longing to have hair like spun gold like Josie or the late Ruby, or as black as Diana’s, anymore, she wishes it is of less horrendous color. 

The freckles littering her forehead and cheeks stare at her, as if mocking her of her hideousness. She shakes her head, strands of carrot-hued hair falls in her face. There, she thinks, what the eyes cannot see would not despair me. 

_“Why not?”_

His voice echoes in her head. 

Why not, indeed? If he does not care about looking, why does she care about what he is looking at? Freckles and ginger hair be damned. It is not as if his opinion matters to her. 

She wipes her tears. 

There are worse things than being ugly. 

It does not take her long to get ready for the day. Marilla is right, being vain would only result in heartache and consuming her precious time. She walks down the stairs, careful with her suitcase, only to see Matthew standing at the landing. 

The way he looks at her, she would forever cherish. This is one man, she knows, loves her unconditionally. 

“Is that trip today, Anne?” he asks, slightly confused at the sight of her suitcase. 

She grabs his hand once she reaches the landing. “My apologies, Matthew. Truthfully, the meeting is tomorrow. But I feel… quite stifled, as of late, around here. I am thinking of paying Diana a visit,” she admits. 

Her adoptive father stares at her, before pursing his lips. “He is a decent man. But if you wanted me to tell him to go away, I would,” he says. 

Her cheeks color at Matthew’s inference. She shakes her head, mortified. “He is a good help to you. Much obliged for the offer though.”

Matthew chuckles. “He is like a son, but you are my daughter. Daughters always come first.”

Tiptoeing, she kisses the side of Matthew’s face. The only man she will ever love. “Thank you.”

* * *

Bash merely watches as the front door slammed close with a thud. 

“Trouble in paradise?”

Gilbert sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. Bash watches in amusement, his little brother has really grown up. The lack of emotion in his teenage years is currently a memory of the past. “I know coming back, it may take awhile to convince her, fully expecting this wild goose chase, but my God, why is she always a step further than me?”

Bash laughs. “She is truly your perfect match, Blythe!” he exclaims, shaking his head at his brother’s plight. “What did our Anne with an E do now?”

“I had the full intention of escorting her to Charlottetown this morning, only to find out she left on the last train yesterday!” 

Bash chuckles. “She has been travelling without an escort well for the past five years, you think she would suddenly relent to you? She is not a helpless woman, Blythe. Be original,” he nags. 

Gilbert sits down helplessly, evaluating his older brother’s wisdom. Nobody knows better about Anne’s independence that he does, although he cannot stop feeling protective of her. He can’t help feeling the pang in his chest at the thought of Anne walking alone doing chores when he should have been there, holding her hand.

He swallows painfully and asks the most dreaded question. “To the best of your knowledge, has any other man escorted her before?”

Bash scrutinises his face. “Do you really want to know?”

He takes awhile to emulate his thoughts, before nodding solemnly. 

“Marilla says, it is without lack of offers. But our Anne is steadfast in graduating at the top of her class that she stays off any romantic association,” Bash explains. “I would have written you otherwise, Blythe, if there was ever any serious contender.”

Gilbert breathes out a sigh of relief. “Moody would otherwise informed me too. He had been a great correspondent.”

Bash chuckles again. “Of course. And the best wingman too, by spreading the word to all of Avonlea and Queen’s gentlemen how our sweet Anne is already taken with a beau in Paris,” he teases. “I swear, Blythe. You act like a gentleman but you’re a sly one too.”

“I have become quite a strategist across the Atlantic,” Gilbert confesses. “Did she really not read a single letter of mine, Bash?” He asks, his tone withdrawn. 

Bash looks on, quiet. “I do not know, brother. But we do not mention your name in front of her. Not me, not Marilla,” he confesses. “I do believe you have hurt her so. It will be a long road. And I hope you persevere through it and do not repeat the same mistake again,” he tacks on a slight warning. 


	8. Chapter 8

“Word through the grapevine is that a certain Paris graduate doctor is back,” Diana, her bosom friend of nearly a decade says nonchalantly. 

Anne leans down to blow strawberries on her goddaughter’s tummy. She giggles listening to Eliza’s happy gurgles. 

“Andddd, your godmother is avoiding the subject yet again,” Diana deadpans. “Anne, it has been five years. Am I ever going to be able to say his name again?”

Anne rolls her eyes. “Nobody is stopping you, Diana,” she mutters. She lifts Eliza high in the air, kissing the chubby legs of her favorite baby. “Your momma is such a gossip, Eliza,” she whispers conspiratorially to the baby. 

“And your godmother is such a coward. She loves running so much I wonder why she is not in the Canada contingent for our first summer Olympics ever. She would be winning a medal for sure!” Diana remarks sarcastically. 

Anne sighs. She places Eliza on her lap, letting the baby play with her fingers. “All right, Diana Baynard. Out with it. What did I do to disappoint you?”

Diana gives her kindred spirit her most reprimanding look. “Your childish antics! Throwing tantrums every time his name is mentioned! Not bothering to read the many letters he had sent you!” Diana berates, careful to keep her tone even as to not scare her daughter. “You said you wanted answers, but when he attempted to give you one, you did not want to pay attention!” 

Stunned, Anne instinctively hugs her goddaughter closer to her chest. “I am a little afraid of you right now, Diana,” she confesses. 

“Is everything a _joke_ to you? I am properly mad at you, Anne! You have been avoiding this topic long enough!” 

Eliza cries. And footsteps thud closer to the sitting room. 

The two bosom buddies sit staring at each other, one satisfied with her outburst, although at the expense of her child crying, the other, simply stunned at her usually gentle friend’s tone. 

“_Ma moitie_, Anne, what is wrong?” Jerry questions as he barges into the sitting room. His eyes dart to his daughter, who is perched crying on his sister from another mother. His wife, bless her, is fuming at the person he least expected for Diana to be mad at. 

“I _can’t_ with your sister. She’s such a bullheaded girl!” 

Anne, snapped out of her stupor, is quick to shush the crying infant in her arms. She bounces the baby while glaring at her bosom friend. “Jerry, could you please tell your wife, that I do no deserve this senseless anger from her. I came here hoping to get a peace of mind with my bosom friend and her daughter, but instead, I am berated because of a person we both barely know and remember!” 

Jerry, who had vast experience when it comes to dealing with Miss Barry and Miss Cuthbert in their youths, raises his eyebrow warily. “Do I know of this person that you both claim to barely know and remember?”

Diana scoffs. “Hah! _Barely know and remember!_ Admit it, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, you cannot erase him from your memory, no matter how hard you try!”

“Are we talking about Gilbert Blythe?” Jerry prompts, a tad afraid of the ladies’ reaction. 

“Yes!” come a united shout from the two women.

Slightly terrified by the amount of emotions in the room, Jerry reaches out to pluck his daughter from Anne. “Come to papa, _mon coeur_,” he coos. 

Anne reluctantly departs from her goddaughter, while still shooting daggers at Diana. “You couldn’t just leave the issue alone.” 

“I have left it alone long enough. You need to wake up before it is too late, yet again!” Diana exclaims. 

“You are not making any sense. So what if he is back? Why do you care and why do I need to care?” she shots back. 

Jerry clears his throat. “You should care plenty, Anne,” he says, bouncing his baby girl in his arms. 

Anne crosses her arms in front of her, fuming. She has had enough of her best friend and brother ganging up on her. “Explain.” 

“You do know that he has declared his intentions to you to all the gentlemen of Avonlea and Charlottetown before he left for Paris, don’t you?” Jerry says hesitantly. 

Anne’s eyes widen. “I beg your pardon?”

“Anne, he had made it clear to our peers he intends to marry you once he gets back from Paris. Word of mouth carried it around, so that no man in Queen’s and Charlottetown would entertain the thoughts of courting you,” Diana explains, her tone slowly calming down. She watches as Anne’s expression contorts from one of confusion, to sadness, and eventually settling on anger.

“How dare that scoundrel plays with the off chance of me having a potential suitor, however unlikely it would be!” she shouts, fully enraged. She regrets it immediately when Eliza starts to fuss, and goes over to coos at the baby, her own face still red with contempt. 

Diana sighs. She walks up to her best friend and lays a hand on her shoulder, in an effort to comfort the woman, who always sees herself in a bad light. “You are looking at this the wrong way, Anne.” 

“Who else knows about this? Is Cole aware?” she asks, ignoring Diana’s attempt to soothe her soul. 

“He was coerced by Gilbert too, yes,” Diana admits.

Anne dismays. Her two most cherished friends conspiring against her with the man who is determined to ruin her. 

She straightens herself, trying to control her burgeoning temper. She drops a kiss on her goddaughter’s forehead, thinking that she might be the only one who has yet to betray her, before turning to the babe’s mother, to give her a piece of her mind. “I am afraid I have to excuse myself, Diana, as I feel I am no longer welcomed here, since you made it plain you would rather conspire with the likes of Gilbert Blythe.”

“Anne -.” 

“So long, Baynards. Mayhaps, when he is not in the picture anymore, we would find friendship again,” she utters, before stepping out from the sitting room, and away from the Baynard’s house. 


	9. Chapter 9

The meeting ends up taking most of her time the next day. Nevertheless, she is delighted to be a part of the education system, and having a hand in shaping the minds of future generation. She used to show up to these meetings in her flowered hat and parasol, but now she has learned to ditch the parasol at home, and replaces her flowered hat with a sensible one. 

At twenty three, she is the youngest principal ever elected, based on her merits from Queens and the practicum points she has spent during the summer. Although the school she is being sent to is not one of the big leagues, she is grateful that she is being given a chance to prove that women can partake in decision making and be treated as equal. 

Mr. Gardner has joined her this morning for the meeting, even though the man in only a substitute. He is ever the charming man, opening doors for her and gesturing for her to go first. She is no stranger to being treated like a lady; Matthew, Jerry and Cole have done well in instilling her worth and how she should be upheld. Although it is ever so gentlemanly, Anne has outgrown the idea of the acts being romantical. 

They are stepping out from the provincial office with Roy holding the door open for her. She gives a nod of thanks and they walk down the steps to the pavement. 

“Miss Cuthbert, what time are you taking the train back to Avonlea?” Roy inquires, removing his hat. 

“I’ll be taking the train at 5 so that I would have enough time to go back to Green Gables before dark. Why do you ask?” 

Roy flashes one of his charming smiles. “Say, would it be terribly forward of me to ask you to join me for afternoon tea?”

Anne almost drops her satchel and gawks at the man. “You are inviting me for tea?” she repeats, the idea that a man finding her company interesting enough to invite her out for tea is something of a novelty. 

Nobody, outside of her friends and family, has ever asked her out for tea before. 

Here is a man, handsome as he is charming, waiting for a respond to his request. 

She has given up the idea of anybody wanting to court her. For the past five years, she has looked on with longing when one by one of her friends had suitors visiting them in the parlour. The summer of their graduation last year was especially hard, three of her good friends have gotten married, including her bosom friend, Diana. 

Would it be so bad to start dreaming again? 

Her lips turn up in a tentative smile, and eventually, Anne gives a little nod. “I’d be delighted to, Mr. Gardner.” 

* * *

It was not as if she didn’t notice the inquisitive looks. 

Roy is quite a conversationalist. He talks about a wide range of topic, which includes his life back in Nova Scotia, being raised as an heir to a logging business, his dabbling in art school, before settling as a business major in University of Toronto. He explains how he is taking a sabbatical year before taking over his father’s business, and that is how he ends up as a substitute teacher in Avonlea. 

“I knew taking the train to PEI, something exciting is abound, and I felt it when I met you for the first time, Anne,” he says, his green eyes smiling with him. “May I call you that? Anne?” 

Anne sits back calmly, not at all what she would expect to feel when finally being told something of a romantical nature. She offers him a small smile of her own, trying to tell herself to feel more invigorated. “You may, only when it is between the two of us. I am afraid it might be a tad improper in front of our pupils,” she says carefully. 

Roy’s upturned smile is ever so fetching. She is reminded of somebody’s crooked smile with shy eyes. She shakes her head slightly, trying to make the image in her mind disappear. 

“It is only fair, if you would call me, Roy,” he adds charmingly. 

She nods gently, smiling placatingly. “Alright.” 

She is waiting for the train back to Bright River when she is approached by a gentleman who used to be in her Northern America history lecture. “Miss Cuthbert, been a long time since we last met,” he greets, taking his hat off for her. 

Anne smiles, curtsying a little. “Mr. Lawson. How have you been? Last I heard you were despatched to Halifax, were you not?” 

Andrew Lawson face lights up. “Oh, you noticed!”

“Oh, yes. Miss Barry and I always recall back to our lessons and we often discuss about the going ons of our classmates,” she explains. 

His smile falters a little. “Oh,” he says, frowning. Then he schools his feature, another smile on his face. “I could not help noticing that you were having tea with a gentleman earlier. Is he your suitor?” 

Anne’s eyes widen. She shakes her head. “Mr. Gardner is my colleague in Avonlea. We just came out from a long meeting and he invited me for tea.” 

He nods, his face contemplative, before he looks at her, determined. “Say, Miss Cuthbert, I have a question which may seem presumptuous, but are you still courting Mr. Blythe?” 

Anne frowns. _What a peculiar question. Or did I mishear?_ “I apologise, but did you just ask me if I am courting a Mr. Blythe?” She repeats. 

The man nods earnestly. 

She sits up, her back straighten. “I am not and was never courting Mr. Blythe,” she declares. “Wherever did you get the idea?” 


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, Blythe!”

Gilbert looks up from the carton where he is arranging the apples to be shipped to America. His foul mood is slightly elevated by seeing a friendly face. “Afternoon, Moody. Didn’t think I would see you before church this Sunday.” He removes his gloves and the two friends shake hands. 

Moody had lost his love three years ago due to consumption. Ruby and Moody were engaged to be married that same summer. He had gotten the news from Bash, and had hastened to write a letter filled with condolences to Moody. At the time, he was scared of his own love, who was not even deigning him with a reply to any of his letters. But Marilla would have mentioned it in her letter if whenever Anne would fall sick, he was sure of. 

“The plan is still to get hitched to Anne, is it not?” Moody asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

Gilbert bristles. Is Moody moving on to Anne? Despite him making aware to all bachelors in Avonlea that he’s going to marry her? “Of course. The plan has not and will not be changed.”

Moody quickly puts up his hands in surrender. “Calm down, Blythe. I am not after your girl,” he explains, before hesitating. “But another man might be.”

Gilbert tosses his gloves into the carton. “Roy Gardner, you mean?”

Moody looks at him, surprised. “Yes. How do you know?”

He merely grunts, lifting the carton to pile up on top of another. 

“I saw them having tea in Charlottetown yesterday. Just the two of them,” Moody speaks, almost afraid at seeing his friend’s reaction. Gilbert has always have an even temperament. But one could not be so sure when it comes to his intended being involved with another man. 

Gilbert grinds his jaw. How she drives him over the wall. 

“It might be an outing between friends. Don’t get mad, Gilbert. I just thought that you should know, people are talking about Anne and Gardner. And about when you are going to finally sweep the Cuthbert girl off her feet.”

He chuckles ruefully. “Between the two of us, there’s no sweeping Anne of her feet. More like I’ll be the one on my knees begging her to take me as hers.”

Moody finally laughs, and it looks good on him. Gilbert is pleased, even though at his expense. The whole Avonlea is aware how the man is still grieving over his almost bride. “You are so gone over her, Blythe. And I’d say there’s no better woman for you to fall for.”

* * *

A few more weeks left before he is scheduled to leave for Summerside and he is nowhere to getting the girl. 

He knows he needs to be patient, after all she is still not fully aware of his intentions.

Church is the one place he knows that she could not avoid him. He locates both Marilla and her easily, her auburn hair sets against her white frock so majestically. He walks confidently up the pew and removes his hat before tipping his head slightly at Marilla, who gestures for him to enter their row. 

“Morning, Cuthberts,” he jovially greets, smiling. Marilla replies a cheery morning, while looking warily for Anne’s response. Lately she has been avoiding any sort of conversation which involves Gilbert’s name and it has been getting quite hard for the older woman to reach out to her adopted daughter. 

Gilbert takes his seat next to Anne, aware of Anne’s downturn frown. He leans nearer to the lovely woman, as much as permissible in the House of Lord. “Good morning, Anne-girl. I’d like to escort you for a walk later after church, please,” he says discreetly. 

Without as much as a glance at him, she answers curtly. “We have Dellie’s birthday this afternoon. I still have to decorate her cupcakes.”

“Do not worry, darling. I will return you home with still plenty of time to spare, and I will also help you with the chores.”

“Please don’t use that term with me.”

He smirks. “Perhaps you prefer sweetheart? Or maybe mon coeur? Or mon cherie?” He rejoices at the colours on her cheeks. “It’s settled then. Mon coeur it is.” 

“I am not dignifying you with an answer if you call me that,” she answers curtly. 

“All the more reasons for me to shower you with endearments, since I get no fight from you.”

She snaps her head to look at him, her eyes shooting daggers. Just like back in school, Gilbert thinks fondly. “Gilbert John Blythe!” 

“Yes, future Mrs. Blythe?” 

The way her eyes widen and her cheeks flush, beautiful. He grins. He leans closer to her, slowly tipping her dropped jaw close. “Careful, sweetheart. You might attract some flies. As it is, the biggest fly of all is already giving me a headache,” he says, giving a subtle nod to Gardner sitting in the front pew. “The service is starting.” He gives her hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away.


	11. Chapter 11

“Thank you for allowing me to spend the morning with her, Marilla. We will return before noon,” he says, a grateful smile to the older woman. He holds out a hand to Anne, who takes it reluctantly, her face withdrawn. 

They walk a few yards from Green Gables, before he starts. “You look like you’re about to be brought to the penitentiary.”

“It does feel like it,” she mumbles, looking anywhere but his face. 

“I’m hurt, Anne-girl. I have been looking forward to this walk for weeks.”

She ignores his banter. “Let us get this over with. What did you want to talk about? Bear in mind, I do not like repeating myself.” 

He clears his throat. His Anne always means business. “Marilla has given us her blessings, and I would be very honored if you would agree to let me court you, Anne,” he relays gently. 

She sniffs and tugs her hand to free it, to no avail. “My stand is clear on the issue. I thank you for the offer to be courted by such an eligible man like yourself but I am not a charity case nor a consolation prize.” 

He stops in his track before turning her to face him. He steps closer, gripping her arms tight but not to hurt. “You misunderstand me, Anne,” he begins as Anne tries to get away. “And you are going to listen to me. I am begging for a place in your heart. You are not a charity case nor a consolation prize. I have loved you for years, Anne!”

His beloved scoffs, tugging her hand again. “I wonder if that happened in between the trips you were taking to Charlottetown for tea with Miss Winifred or your years in Paris. Surely you understand why I find it very hard to believe!”

He is not taking any chances and pulls her closer, taking her hostage within his arms. He shakes his head, ashamed. “What happened five years ago was my mistake, Anne,” he says earnestly, holding on to her firmly. “I should not be courting her when I already had feelings for you.”

“Did the gorgeous Winifred reject your proposal and in return you had thought of my name as a substitute? Is that it?” she asks quietly, although her eyes are blazing. 

Taken aback, Gilbert shakes his head. “Is that what you really think?” 

“What do you expect me to think, Gilbert? You left, without so much of an explanation, and came back, claiming to woo me, and unbeknownst to me, you had gone behind my back telling all the men of Avonlea and Charlottetown that I am to be married to you! Do you know how much of the implication it is to my future?!” she yells, unable to contain her anger anymore. 

“Yes, I do! Because no matter what, I want your future to involve me, Anne! Because I love you! I have loved you for years! Even when I was sailing the waters to Trinidad, it was you on my mind! Even when I was alone surrounded by debutantes in Paris, it was always you in my heart, my soul! You would have known that if you had bothered to read my letters! So forgive me for being so deceitful as to manipulate your future so that you will always be with me!”

“Those are just words, Mr. Blythe,” she stutters. 

“And you of all people, know how powerful words can be,” he shots back, fierce. His eyes soften at the sight of Anne’s stunned expression at his tone. “This is not lip service, Anne. Please allow me the time to properly apologise to you,” he pleads. 

Anne shakes her head, her lips trembling. Gilbert’s heart breaks, he has no intention to make her cry. 

“Stop this at once, Gilbert. I do not want or need your apology. Just please do not insult me by making me your second choice and your charity case. I do not need that from you. Honor my autonomy and let me be,” she begs, her eyes shining.

“Anne! Gilbert!” 

The two startle at the voice and turns to face the commotion coming from home. Marilla is running towards them, as fast as her creaking knees would allow. Shocked, Anne gathers her skirt to run straight to her adoptive mother. Gilbert is already gaining ground, and grabs Marilla by the wrist. 

“What is wrong, Marilla?” he urges. 

Marilla sobs. “Matthew! He’s collapsed inside!” 


	12. Chapter 12

Anne has no more tears left to cry. 

The first man she has ever loved, outside of the congenital love she had for her own birth father, is currently lying motionless on his bed. 

“Anne, let me take over watch. Please go and have your supper,” Gilbert says quietly as he places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Gilbert sighs. “Please, darling. You haven’t eaten anything since morning.”

Marilla enters the room quietly. “Gilbert is right, Anne. Let me spend some time with my brother,” she cajoles gently. 

Anne lets Gilbert pull on her hand gently as the man guides her slowly to the dining table. Muriel, who had rushed to Green Gables after hearing the bad news, has been a Godsend. She brought with her Gilbert’s medical bag and tried her best to assist him while he worked on stabilising Matthew. 

The older woman places a bowl of potato soup with bread in front of her as Gilbert pulls out a chair for her to sit. She obliges, shoots a grateful smile to Muriel before mindlessly spooning the soup to her mouth. 

The moment the hot liquid touches her tongue, she hisses, accidentally dropping the spoon on the table with a clang. 

Gilbert rushes forward and bends down to inspect her lips. “Are you okay?” he asks in a worried tone, his thumb rubbing gently on her stinging bottom lip. 

She nods, cheeks reddened at her carelessness and Gilbert’s proximity. 

Gilbert sighs. He pulls out a chair and brings it close to her side. He takes over the bowl, spooning a little soup before blowing to cool it down. She blushes when he turns the spoon to her lips. “Open up, my love,” he says gently. 

She obliges. 

The night is quiet as she slowly finishes her bowl. She swallows the last spoonful, before feeling her body being pulled into an embrace. She relents, and lets her head nestles against the crook of his neck. The stubbles on his chin a source of comfort. A kiss on her forehead later and like a dam opening, she bursts into tears yet again. 

* * *

Anne wakes up with a pounding headache and sore eyes. It is still dark outside and the rooster is yet to crow. She swings her feet down, recalling the event of the previous day.

Funny. She fell asleep in her day clothes but somebody had taken the time to remove her hairpins. 

She runs a hand through her hair, memories of last night resurfacing. She recalls bouts of lucidity where she was in Gilbert’s arms, being carried up the stairs. She remembers his soothing fingers massaging her scalp. And the feeling of his warm lips kissing her eyelids, whispering ‘everything will be alright, Anne-girl,’ appears in her mind. 

He has been a pillar of strength for her and Marilla yesterday. Upon finding out Matthew’s loss of consciousness, he ran straight to Green Gables to attend to him. She tried to control her panic, although at times she felt like going insane, at the sight of Matthew, her strong father figure, succumbing to the ailment of the heart. She had followed Gilbert’s instruction to the best of her abilities, and when Gilbert was convinced that Matthew was finally out of the woods, was when she finally let her tears fall. 

Anne gets ready for the day, and pulls her hair into a simple side chignon. She walks quietly down the stairs, mindful of creaks. Marilla is already awake but still getting ready in her room. 

She peeks into Matthew’s room, and sees Gilbert slumped on the chair by the bed, eyes closed. Matthew has a slight snore and somehow, the sound is so endearing and ensures her that he is doing fine. She goes around to tuck the blanket properly around Matthew, and once satisfied, she glances over at the younger man, who is still fast asleep. His curls askew, his sinewy arms crossed on his chest. He looks so peaceful asleep, angelic even, unlike the devil who is constantly trying to ruin her life in his wake. 

She grabs the extra blanket at the foot of Matthew’s bed and gently lays it on Gilbert. She begins to tuck the edge around him when he begins to stir.

She freezes. 

His eyes flutter open, the beautiful hazels looking dreamily into hers. He smiles and he once again closes his eyes. “Good morning, Anne-girl,” he greets gently. “I’m just getting a shuteye since Matthew is stable.”

“As you should,” she replies softly. “Let me take over watch. I’ll prepare some breakfast and you can lie down properly in our guest bed.” 

He gives her another sleepy smile before nodding. 

She flutters around him in the kitchen, preparing coffee and his plate for breakfast. He watches as she tucks a stray auburn hair behind her ear as removes the kettle from fire. He looks at the half-beaten eggs in the bowl and helps himself. 

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with breakfast.”

“Gilbert, I am perfectly capable -.”

"I know you are, but I’d like to help. So we can eat earlier, right?”

She has no arguments to that. She offers him a small smile with a soft ‘thank you’. 

They work seamlessly together side by side. Gilbert, scrambling the eggs while Anne flips the toast. This is the scene that Marilla walks into. 

The trio eat together in comfortable silence. Gilbert’s attentiveness to the two women does not go unnoticed. He pours a second cup of coffee for Marilla because he knows her routine. He scoops extra scrambled eggs onto Anne’s plate when hers is near finished. 

“I was almost done,” Anne grumbles softly. But she shoves the eggs into her mouth anyway, as she secretly approves of how Gilbert seasoned the eggs with salt and cumin. 

“That portion was only fit for Delly, Anne,” he chastises. “You need to eat more to keep your strength up.” 

Matthew is still snoring when the three of them visit his room again. Gilbert checks on his patient, making sure his reflexes and his pulse steady and strong. He excuses himself to return back home to get ready for the day, before coming back later to watch over his patient. 

“I will be back shortly. Within the hour,” he promises as she sends him off. 

She nods, wringing her hands nervously. “Thank you, Gilbert.” She hesitates before stepping forward. “Regarding the talk yesterday...”

He looks at her, his eyes soft. “Do not worry and feel burdened by my words. We will talk again, once Matthew is out of the woods. Please know that you were never a second choice, my Anne.”

The way that he declares it with conviction makes her heart speed. She feels him tugging at her hand and she relents, as he gives it a gentle squeeze before departing. 

She watches as he rides on his horse, and with each gallop, she feels her heart drifting away. 


	13. Chapter 13

“I can feed meself, dear child,” Matthew grumbles. 

Anne smiles fondly. She spoons another helping of porridge and urges him to open his mouth. “I know. I just want to feed my old man,” she teases, trying to bring light into his eyes. 

“Oh, who are you calling old?” 

“You, obviously. Not knowing when to limit yourself,” she chastises gently. “You gave me and Marilla quite a fright, Matthew.”

Matthew coughs, leaning back against his bed. Anne places down the bowl and gently props him up, her forehead etched with worry. “Let’s have some water,” she coos. 

Matthew gulps down small amount of water to relieve his throat. He sighs. He knows himself that his heart may not hold on for too long. As it is, this is not the first time he has suffered from the ailment. 

“Anne, you have to know, eventually I will have to leave you and Marilla.”

Anne harrumphs. “Not today or soon you don’t. You still have to teach me how to breed the stallions and the cows for our future dairy farm.”

Matthew purses his lips, pretending to be thinking. He nods, and sighs. “And I still have to walk you down the aisle, dear child,” he says, raising up an eyebrow. 

Anne blushes. “Did you hit your head when you fell last night?” She mumbles. 

“Always so stubborn,” Matthew grumbles again. “I am quite glad that that Gilbert boy has the patience of a saint.”

“What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Good morning, Cuthberts.” 

Both Cuthberts turn to look at the newcomer who is standing at the doorway. Anne’s cheeks heat up. This man is in the habit of showing up when it is most inconvenient, she thinks. 

“Hello, Dr. Blythe,” Matthew greets, sitting up, followed by a string of chesty cough. 

Gilbert stride into the room urgently as he helps his patient to lean forward. He pats the older man gently on the back, cupping his hand, to encourage sputum expectoration. Anne brings over the sputum bucket, and the two of them work together to help Matthew relieving his lungs. 

Once the episode is over, they prop the man gently against the headboard, their hands brushing. Matthew looks at them both in fondness, before patting their hands which are resting on each of his arms. 

“Now, Matthew, I am always Gilbert to you,” Gilbert replies, smiling. “I am glad you are sitting up and eating, however I apologise as I am the bearer of bad news,” he continues.

Anne panics. “Isn’t the worst over, Gilbert?”

Gilbert nods solemnly. “Yes. However, the second heart attack has caused his heart pumping function to reduce, and as of now, you are suffering from congestive heart failure. That means fluids leaking to your lungs and also limbs.”

“Fluids leaking to his lungs??” Anne repeats, aghast. “Is that why he has been coughing?”

“You are right, Anne. Therefore, we need to limit his water intake to avoid his lungs from drowning.”

Matthew sighs. More and more death sentence upon him. 

Anne looks at Gilbert, determined. “Tell me, how do I help him, Gilbert?” 

* * *

Her chores in the kitchen done, Anne peeks into Matthew’s room to see how the two men are faring. Gilbert is nodding to something being said by Matthew. 

“I need you to bring Mr. Williams to me tomorrow.” 

Gilbert pauses before replying. “You still have time, Matthew. Have faith.” 

“I do not want to take any chances. I need to make practical decisions regarding Marilla and Anne’s living condition. I have failed them once. I won’t fail them again.”

Anne pulls back. Mr. Williams is the attorney from town. She tries to keep her tears at bay. Does Matthew really think he’s running out of time?

A knock on the front door wakes her from her reverie. She hurries to the door, dabbing her eyes with her sleeve. 

The door reveals a Mr. Gardner, his hat off to his chest. 

“Good afternoon, Anne. I came here as soon as I heard,” he greets, sombrely. 

“Good afternoon, Roy. Thank you. Matthew is resting as we speak,” she explains. “But he is still too weak for visitors, my apologies.”

“Oh, no, no. I do not want to be a bother. I am here to offer my assistance. Perhaps if you need something to be fetched from town? Or do you need any help with Summerside?” he says, his face appropriately accommodating and charming. 

Anne smiles. How nice to be considered of such help. “I thank you for your offer, Roy. But my family and I are still able to manage things for now. It is very generous of you, I must say.”

Footsteps approaching from inside the house and stops right behind her. “Very generous indeed,” Gilbert mutters as he stands towering behind her. “Hello, Mr. Gardner,” he greets. 

Mr. Gardner looks taken aback seeing Gilbert coming from inside the house. One look at Gilbert’s face, Gardner recognises competition when he sees one. “Oh, Mr. Gilbert. The neighbor and family friend I met the other day, are you not?” he replies breezily, and rejoices at the sight of Gilbert clenching his jaw. 

“Gilbert has been a Godsend. He was the one who treated and stabilised Matthew,” Anne explains, shooting him a small albeit grateful smile. 

Surprised, Gardner raises an eyebrow. “Are you a physician, Mr. Blythe?”

He opens his mouth to answer but Anne beats him to it. “Yes. Dr. Blythe is a recent graduate from Sorbonne.” He is not sure if he is imagining things, but she looks slightly teary, and proud?

Gilbert swallows, as he peers down at the woman standing in front of him. “Always Gilbert to you, Anne,” he says gently. 

Anne chuckles as she averts his eyes. She looks back at Gardner, smiling wide. “Isn’t it the most fortunate of me, being neighbors with a physician!” 

And again Gilbert’s heart plummets at being referred to as a mere neighbor again. 

“How fortuitous indeed,” Gardner replies, an easy smile on his face. 

Gilbert feels like pummelling the smile off the man’s face. He gives a tight grin. “I cannot help but overhear your offer to help earlier. Does the offer still stand, Mr. Gardner?” 

Gardner nods. “Of course. Anything to help the Cuthberts. What can I do?”

Gilbert steps forward to hand a piece of paper containing the list of medicaments needed from the chemist to Gardner. “If you would be so kind as to fetch these from the town chemist?” Gardner nods in agreement and Gilbert pulls out a sachet from his pocket and hands the man a few bills. 

Anne gasps and hastens her steps to Gilbert. “Gilbert Blythe! You keep your money!” She turns to Gardner, holding a hand out to stop the transaction. “Please wait here for awhile, Roy, while I go and fetch my purse,” she says, giving an indignant look to Gilbert. 

Hearing her familiarity with Gardner makes Gilbert seethe. He grasps on Anne’s wrist, who is about to dash inside for her money. “You do no such thing,” he says, his voice low. 

“How dare you!” 

“How dare I? Matthew is like my father too!” 

Anne’s eyes soften, and her fight against his hold relaxes. “You have done too much, Gilbert…”

“Then if you feel indebted, of which you should not, please let me do this for Matthew,” he pleads. 

Gardner, the silent spectator, merely watches on. 

Eventually, Anne nods. Ever so slowly, Gilbert loosens his hold on her wrist. “Thank you,” she speaks softly. She turns to face Gardner, offering him a grateful smile. “And thank you to you too, Roy. I am very grateful for your help.” 


	14. Chapter 14

“You are on first name basis with Mr. Gardner,” Gilbert can’t help himself but notes. 

Anne pauses in kneading the dough for their dinner rolls. She simply nods. “He is my colleague after all.”

“Colleagues who have tea together?” 

Silence ensues. Anne dusts her tabletop with flour. “I thank you with all the help with Matthew, but I fail to see whom I have tea with is any of your business. I do not recall butting into your business when you had tea routinely with Winifred,” she says nonchalantly.

It is like a slap to the face. But Gilbert cracks on. “It is so obvious that he wants to be more with you,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. 

She shrugs. “Would it be so bad? Since you have told off local potential suitors within Avonlea and Charlottetown, I need to widen my scope.”

Gilbert looks like he is about to bust a blood vessel. 

The front door swings open and Diana steps in with Muriel, Eliza on her hip. “I do not care if you are terribly mad at me, Anne Cuthbert, but I did solemnly vow to always be by your side in your time of need,” Diana declares. 

Stunned, the two friends stare at each other for awhile, before Anne gasps and storms to Diana. She engulfs her kindred spirit in the tightest of hugs, the babe squished in between them. “Oh, my kindred spirit! I am grateful that you are here, Diana! And I am ever so sorry for my tantrums. It was very childish of me!” She leans down to shower Eliza’s face with kisses. “Auntie Anne is sorry, Eliza! It was not my intention to isolate you so!”

The door bursts open one more time, revealing a dashingly haggard looking young man, who seems like he has just survived a long and arduous journey. 

“Cole! You’re back!”

The young man drops his elegant luggage and opens his arms wide to welcome one of his most cherished friends. “Of course, Anne. I hopped on the earliest train after I received the telegram from Diana.” 

Diana and Eliza join the huddle and the three friends hug each other in a warm embrace. 

“It is so nice to see the three of you together again,” Muriel says, a hand on her heart. 

“Thank you, Muriel, for bringing Diana here,” Anne says, her eyes teary. 

“Oh, it was nice to carry Miss Eliza on the way. I do miss having a babe her age to fuss over.”

“There is so much underlying meaning to that sentence, especially with a Mr. Gilbert Blythe standing over there by the kitchen hallway,” Cole says cheekily, raising his eyebrow. “How are you doing, Gilbert? Thank you for taking care of dear Matthew.”

Gilbert rubs his neck, the tips of his ears heating up at the sight of his Anne blushing. He steps into the parlour. The two men shake hands and embrace in a brief hug. “I am doing well, Cole. Toronto has suited you well.” He nods at Diana, offering the woman a smile. “And hello Mrs and Miss Baynard. Both of you are looking lovely this afternoon.”

Diana chuckles, especially at the sight of her bosom friend looking anywhere but at the dashing doctor. “Thank you, Gilbert. Please, Diana since school and forever. We are friends, are we not?”

Gilbert smiles. “Of course you are. I have often found myself being indebted to you and your family.” _Especially when keeping me updated regarding the love of my life_, he thinks. 

Diana waves her hand dismissively. “What are friends for, if not to help each other in their time of need,” she says, smiling conspiratorially at him. She gazes at her bosom friend, herface becoming sympathetic. “Jerry is on the way over with Bash. They are looking for an extra hand to hire to help Matthew with the farm.”

“Oh, how blessed we are to have beloveds like you all,” Anne sighs, giving Diana another sideway hug. “How is Hazel and my little bluebell, Muriel?”

“She is being watched over by both grandma Hazel and Rachel. Both ladies are busy preparing for sustenance to be brought over to Green Gables,’” she replies, reaching over to squeeze Anne’s hand gently. “How is Marilla doing?”

“She is resting after pulling an all nighter taking care of Matthew last night,” Anne explains, touched by the love surrounding her family. 

Gilbert looks on at the family and friends surrounding his beloved Anne. He realises how well she is being taken care of for the past five years in his absence. 

Which begs the question: would she ever need him, the way that he needs her?

* * *

“While I am… very fond of your daughter and she is the most important woman in my life, I would not take her consent for granted and marry her against her will, Matthew.”

Anne’s heartbeat speeds up. _Are they talking about me?_ She knows the implication of eavesdropping, but is it wrong, when the subject of the matter is possibly about her? She almost scoffs at her ridiculousness. Highly improbable for her, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert to be the most important woman in Gilbert Blythe’s life.

She pauses by the door, leaning her forehead against the wall. 

Matthew coughs a little, and Anne can hear fabric rustling. “I know you have been in love with Anne for years. And I know how you kept the correspondence with Marilla while you were in Paris. I have consented you to court her since then, Gilbert. It is about time you two marry.”

Anne gasps into her palm. _Matthew did what? _Behind her back? 

“I am in the process of courting her, Matthew. She needs to forgive me before she allows me to be with her. I respect her too much to force her into something she does not want.”

“Gilbert, I know my daughter. Despite her belligerence, there is still a space for you in her heart.” _There is not!_ “There should not be an issue of courting her after marriage, because I need to secure her future before my passing.” 

Anne fumes. She tries to calm her heart’s erratic beating. She cannot be mad at Matthew. 

She knocks on the door, alerting both men to her presence. “Hello, gentlemen,” she greets calmly, placing Matthew’s lunch on the bedside table. “Time for sustenance,” she announces, trying to sound cheerful. 

Matthew clears his throat, prompting Anne to look his way. 

“Anne, we need to talk.”

She swallows, appearing brave. “Alright. We will talk after Doctor Blythe leaves for the day.” 

“No. It is imperative that he is around during the talk,” Matthew asserts. 

The two exchange a long look, before Anne sits down on the other side of Matthew’s bed, opposite to Gilbert. The latter looks nervous, and smiles gently. 

“Very well. What is it you want to talk about, Matthew?”

Matthew looks at her endearingly. This man has always had his heart in his eyes when he is looking at her. “You know my time in this world is ending soon, dear child,” he starts. 

Anne’s eyes spontaneously water. She shakes her head. “You are going to be back on your feet soon, Matthew. You are NOT going to leave me and Marilla,” she argues childishly. 

Matthew chuckles, his own eyes watering. “My Anne, you are the mature age of twenty two, my dear, you do know that my heart will inevitably give out anytime now.”

“Gilbert told me you are out of the woods, Matthew!” She looks at the younger man, who has his head down. “Gilbert, Matthew will make it, won’t he?”

Gilbert looks up to face her, disheartened. “Anne, when it comes to the ailment of the heart, no guarantees can be fully given.”

Her shoulder falls. Realistically, she herself is a scholar, and she understands the odds that is given by Gilbert. Making a scene will only upset Matthew further, and it is not her intention to make him worry about her. 

“Do you understand now, dear girl, that the future is not certain for me?” Matthew continues gently. 

She nods reluctantly, wiping her tears discreetly. “We will cherish and make the most of our time, fret not, Matthew,” she vows, squeezing the hand of the man that has raised her. 

“And of that, I would like to make my wish for you known, Anne,” Matthew says tentatively, reaching out to wipe the stray tears on his daughter’s cheek.

She looks up, putting a front lest she disappoints her adoptive father. “What is it, Matthew? You know you can ask me of anything. I will try my best to fulfil your wishes, as you have always fulfilled mine.” 

The old man looks at her lovingly, hope shining in his eyes. “It is a dream of mine to walk you down the aisle, dear Anne.” He squeezes her hand tightly. "Will you help to fulfil a dying man's wish, my child?"


	15. Chapter 15

“May I interrupt your thoughts?”

Anne startles. The wind blowing has muffled the sound of rustling from his footsteps. How does he know to find her here? She turns her face slightly, indicating that she is aware of him approaching. 

“I must unburden my thoughts, and I apologise if this is not something you want to hear,” he begins, standing a few feet away behind her. 

She gives him a small nod.

“You have to know, how much I want the honor to be your husband. But everything should be on your biding, Anne,” he begins. “You have a choice, my love, and I do not want to take the choice away from you.”

His words prompt her to face him. She takes her time admiring his form; taller now, his shoulders strong. She blushes at the memory of nestling her face in his neck a few nights ago. The splendid chin and jaw, covered with very becoming stubbles, causes her heart to speed up. His eyes, those beautiful hazel ponds, hold such romance, that she cannot believe to be directed to her. 

Not after five years of his absence. 

“Be as it may, Gilbert, I do not really have a choice. It is not a choice to upset Matthew,” she whispers. 

He steps closer slowly, as not to spook her. “What do you want to do, Anne? Tell me,” he coaxes gently, his voice a caress to her skin. 

“I don’t know what I want, Gilbert, least of all burdening you with my being,” she confesses. 

Gilbert chuckles. “Were you not listening to what I said?”

She takes a step behind, trying to increase the closing gap between them. “I am transferred off to Summerside this fall.”

Gilbert smiles, taking the step closer. “I have known for awhile. I have made arrangement to be stationed at the Summerside Hospital and Disease Research Centre before coming back from Paris.”

Frowning, she looks up, her eyes stubborn. How long has her life been privy to Gilbert Blythe? She tries another tactic. “I have nothing to offer you but more burden. I do not have a large inheritance, and I earn a meagre salary as a teacher. While I have made peace with my average looks, I am sure you want somebody of a classic beauty to stand next to you.” She stares at him, challenging him to argue. 

Gilbert raises his eyes, taking on the silent provocation. “I am an orphan myself, or have you forgotten the fact, dear Anne? What I do have in savings from years of trying to earn your hand, is enough to get us by for a few years, but not a huge inheritance, there is not. I am a country doctor and a government researcher, while we may be comfortable, but I am afraid it is not a guaranteed luxury, my love.” 

He pauses, seeing her biting her lips doing things to his heart and nether region. He chastises himself. 

“Anne-girl,” he begins again, whispering her name reverently. He tempts fate by reaching out to caress her cheek, which reddens at his endearment. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. Your beauty has bewitched me and there were many sleepless nights where I lay awake, thinking of those beguiling eyes and stunning hair, your melodious laughter,” he pauses, his thumb rubbing her soft lips. “There were times I dreamt of kissing those lips, til they are swollen from my affections.” She gasps, her eyes fluttering close. “And there were days where only the thoughts of returning home to you were the only thing keeping me sane, dearest,” he whispers. 

He drops down on his knee, and the sound prompts Anne to open her eyes. The sight of Gilbert, holding out an emerald ring to her, makes her heart thud wildly in her chest. 

“Anne, I have loved no other person more than I have loved you. I promise to cherish you, respect you, strive to be your equal for as long as we both shall live. Will you do the tremendous honor of marrying me, my Anne with an E?”

XXX

“I need a matron of honor.”

Diana’s eyes widen. “You’re engaged,” she merely states. 

Anne nods. 

“Finally!” Diana yells, cheering. She throws her arms around her bosom friend, joyous. She pulls back temporarily, looking nervously at the engaged woman. “It _is_ to Gilbert Blythe, right?” 

Anne bites her lip, nodding, uncertain. 

“Oh, I am so happy, Anne! My wish has come true!” Diana exclaims, bringing her friend close. Anne’s hug is more restrained. “What’s wrong, my dear? Aren’t you happy?” she asks, her forehead etched with worry. 

Anne pulls back marginally. “Do you really believe he loves me, Diana?” she asks, her voice small. Her vulnerability breaks Diana’s heart. 

“My dear, he has been in love with you since school. His lingering looks and stare. Surely you are aware of this, Anne.”

“Remember when we theorised about his lingering looks? What did we get from that? A mysterious debutante appearing with him during the town fair,” Anne reminds Diana. “Diana, I am no stranger to heartbreak, but it does not mean I am willing to go through it again.” 

Diana sighs. “Anne, I think it is about time you read his letters.” 

“What good would it bring me?”

“Well, first, conviction, I suppose.”

Anne chuckles. “I am adult enough to know the fantasy in writing does not necessarily translate into real life.” 

“The Anne I know has boundless dreams, and she writes those dreams so vividly into reality,” Diana exclaims softly. “My Anne, why can’t this happiness be your reality? You love Gilbert. Rejoice, my love!”

Anne pulls away and sits by the window. She ponders quietly. “Maybe that is it. Maybe that is the problem. It has been five years, Diana. Love fades. I have learnt to live without him. Surely it means I do not love him after all these years, doesn’t it?” 

“Are you trying to say that you love me any less if say, I relocate to Toronto and we do not see each other in the next five years?”

Anne looks up, shocked. “No! Never! I will love you for always, Diana! You are my kindred spirit!”

Diana nods, satisfied with her answer. She crosses her arms, looking all business-like. “You love him. You may have forgotten the feeling, but you were never really over him.”

Anne scoffs. “Then, is that really a good foundation for marriage? What if Winifred comes back? He may have forgotten the feeling, but maybe he is not really over her as well,” she shots back sarcastically. 

Sighing, Diana falls on the seat opposite to her best friend. “Anne, read the goddamn letters.” 

“I am only doing this for Matthew,” Anne vows, her face determined. “Maybe, one day, I will find true love. As for now, I am willing to put my life on hold for the sake of Matthew.” She glances at her bosom friend. “And the day will come when I will prove myself right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we only stan Gilbert Blythe, not Lucas Zumann :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seasons greetings and Happy 2020, y'all!

The green stone twinkles in the light, and she lifts her hand up, looking at it in wonder. “Do you think he had proposed to Winifred with the same ring?” 

The sound of the comb hitting hitting the floor resounds in the room. Stunned, Anne turns to face a fuming Diana. 

“What is wrong?” she asks warily. 

“You have not read the letters, have you?” Diana demands. 

“I could not find the time!” she exclaims, defending herself. _And I do not even know if they still exist_, she thinks defiantly. 

Her kindred spirit inhales deeply as she closes her eyes, in an effort to stay calm. Diana opens her eyes slowly, fierce dark browns looking fiercely at her. “Do you really think Gilbert Blythe would recycle a ring, for you?” 

“I, I don’t know,” she stutters at the magnitude of Diana’s ire. Perhaps she has crossed the line. Of course, Gilbert has enough class not to give her a ring meant for another woman. Being a second choice saddens her again, and Anne’s gaze drops to her lap. 

“You would, if you’d have read his letters!” Diana exclaims. 

“I did not ask for all these, did I?” she rebuts back, albeit in a softer tone. “Diana, I do not even know that man. We have not seen each other for half a decade. What knowledge I have of him, and him of me, is from our schooling era. How do you build a life scarcely knowing each other?” 

“That man worked two jobs on top of his medical school, and an extra one, during summer, to be able to afford that ring, your trousseau, the wedding, your home in Summerside. Show some gratitude!” Diana barks. 

Stunned, Anne cowers. Diana’s words hit her like a sledgehammer to the head. “I didn’t know,” she mumbles. 

Diana’s face softens. She reaches out a hand to tuck a stray auburn strand behind her beloved friend’s ear. “Dearest, I understand your apprehension, by no fault of your own, but this circumstance, it cannot be helped. I would love for you to be courted properly by Gilbert before the both of you enter marriage. But you have to know, the past five years of his life has solely been dedicated to you.”

Anne’s eyes water. “How is my life spiralling so of my control? Although I was quite resigned to the fact that I might turn to be a spinster with the lack of interest from our male counterparts, I believe I was quite content. And then he came back, after being gone with another woman. It took me YEARS, to get over him. So allow me this feeling of anxiety, because I did not plan on getting married, not a month ago, and definitely not to Gilbert Blythe!” 

She spins around and leaves her childhood room, wiping her tears discreetly. 

Downstairs is another drama. 

“Marilla, I really do not find the necessity of a new gown. I could have just worn one of my old ones and get it over with,” Anne protests.

Mrs. Lynde stares at her in shock. Mrs. Lacroix, bless the woman’s heart, looks down at her feet grimly. “One does not go to one of the best days of her life in an old gown in order ‘to get it over with’, Anne,” Mrs. Lynde chastises. 

Anne’s cheeks color at the reprimand. Honestly! One of the best days of her life? Really? 

Marilla looks at her grimly. “Anne, I strongly suggest you stop with the nonsense. Marriage by license? How preposterous! Besides, Gilbert has specifically allocated a handsome sum for your trousseau and the ceremony and you would do well to appreciate it!” 

“Oh, so the ever holier-than-thou Dr. Blythe gives a handout and now we have to oblige him? I have half a mind to tell you to return back his donation because although we do not have much, Marilla, we are not beggars!” 

“Anne!” Marilla bellows, so loud Anne actually jumps. “What is wrong with you?!”

Anne flinches, realising she has gone too far. 

She is saved from further mortification as the front door swings open and in comes a Mr. Lacroix and his adorable daughter. Anne’s demeanor brightens as she watches the little one jumps down from his father’s hold and runs straight to her aunt Anne. 

“Auntie Anne! I am ready to follow you to town for my big girl dress!” she announces, beaming. 

Anne smiles, albeit confused. “Big girl dress?”

“Yes! For my duty as the flower girl in your and Unca Gil’s wedding!”

Far be it from her to disappoint the poor girl, but it must be done. “Oh, my little bluebell,” she coos. “But tis’ only a small ceremony, my love. There is no need for a flower girl,” she explains gently. 

The moment the little girl’s face falls, the guilt rushes over to envelop and crush Anne’s heart. Delphine’s lips and shoulders droop. “Oh,” she mumbles. “It was a most wonderful dream.”

Bash walks over to put a hand around his daughter’s shoulders. He raises an eyebrow at his dear almost sister, in question, also in disapproval. Anne blushes. 

“Why, auntie Anne. It is the most joyful day for both Green Gables and Blythe-Lacroix household, the bigger the wedding party is, the better,” Bash says, almost with an underlying reprimand. “I myself is the best man and the ring keeper. A flower girl is most important.”

Anne feels fully chastised and averts her eyes from the room full of people. 

“And I myself, is the matron of honor, and I do believe there is a vacancy for the flower girl spot, Dellie girl,” Diana announces as she comes down the stairs, carrying with her an arrangement of ribbons, likely obtained from Anne’s treasure chest. “I have just the color that will match us splendidly,” she says excitedly.

Delphine’s eyes brighten and claps her hands. “Oh, do tell, Auntie Diana! What color is the most splendid for us?”

“Why, the color of your namesake, of course! Blue!”

* * *

“I have to say, my kindred spirit, I envy you something fierce. This gown is simply gorgeous, dearest,” Diana whispers in awe. She buttons up the lace gown meticulously.

“It is a gorgeous dress, is it not,” Anne sighs. A week ago, their entourage had gone to Jeannie’s bridal shop to perhaps find a readymade dress for her, for convenience’s sake, when the sweet elderly woman whipped out a grand-looking box. 

“It is tailored to your size and fully paid for, sweet child,” Jeannie had said. 

Stunned, Anne frowned at the most peculiar occurrence. “How could it be? My engagement is only a few days old. And who is the kind soul who paid for the dress?” 

Jeannie smiled as she patted the younger woman’s hand. “Why, your darling fiancé, of course! As for when I started fashioning it, well, you can ask your beloved Mother that question.”

In the end, she hasn’t the time to sit down with Marilla to interrogate the woman. 

Everything has been a whirlwind. 

While she did see her betrothed everyday while he was making rounds with his patient, she did not manage to find the opportunity to discuss about the wedding. She had half the mind to tell him off for paying for the dress. 

“If it is something that pleases him, let the man be, Anne,” Marilla had scolded. 

“How could it please somebody to spend so much on something which is not even his?” she rebutted. 

“The dress might be yours, but you are going to be his, so it is simple Mathematics, Miss Cuthbert, soon-to-be Blythe,” Diana chimed in. 

The two families had sat down and came with a decision on where to hold the wedding: the orchard. Best man would be the groom’s brother himself, while Mrs. Baynard would be the matron of honor. Little Delphine will be the flower girl, and little Eliza will be the ring bearer. 

Miss Hazel and Mrs. Lynde have been cooking up a storm to cater to the wedding. It will be a small intimate crowd of their old classmates and family. Muriel, Cole and Jerry have taken it upon themselves the create the wedding arena, with input from Diana.

The future groom and the future bride are left task-less, for Anne is busy taking care of Matthew, while Gilbert takes care of his patient, and arranging their future in Summerside. 

They had stared at each other while Matthew lay napping on the bed. One, filled with love, the other, with apprehension. 

“If you don’t mind, Anne, I have found us a home in Summerside. It is modest, but it has a garden, and I think you will like it,” he had said in a low voice, mindful of their sleeping charge. 

Anne pursed her lips. The school had agreed to provide her with accommodation, which she was sure not adequate for a married couple. “I am partial to any choice of yours,” she replied softly. 

He exhaled. “You are my equal, and your input is of utmost important, my love.” 

She flushed, grateful for Matthew being asleep. “I shall keep that in mind,” she replied, looking down to the ring on her finger.

She is brought back to today, where she is due for a walk down the aisle to a man she is to call her husband. Five years ago, she would be thrilled to have the honor to become his wife. But today, the apprehension is something she does not expect on the day which is supposed to be the best day of her life. 

“My kindred spirit,” she whispers. The feel of Diana’s hands on her hair a source of comfort. “Do tell, how shall I react, having to lay with a stranger in bed tonight?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of updates. Real world gets in between. Thank you for sticking with me. Love and kisses :)

“Mrs. Doctor Blythe?”

_“i had a feeling the man that would eventually tame you would be unmatched, ahead of his peers. But are you sure about this, Anne?” Josie Pye frowned, if Anne should be bold, the blonde looked concerned, even. “I thought he was history.”_

_Years of being amiable with Jocelyn Pie has resulted in a formidable friendship. She knew the blonde has somewhat started caring for her after the whole debacle with Billy Andrews. _

_Anne shrugged. “No. But it’s neither here nor there.”_

“Mrs. Doctor Blythe?"

_“I thought we would have more time. I would have more time,” Mr. Gardner sighed. His eyes were downcast. _

_Anne pursed her lips. The handsome man looked rueful. “I don’t get what you’re saying, Mr. Gardner.”_

_“I didn’t know that you and Doctor Blythe are courting to be married,” the man confessed, looking at her in earnest._

_Anne felt her heart skipped a beat. “Why is it important for you to know?” she stammered._

_“Because I like you, Anne. I’ve fallen in love with you.”_

“Mrs. Doctor Blythe!”

Anne snaps out of her reverie, and finally notices that the porter calling out for her. She blushes and stands up, tipping her head in respect. It is proving to take awhile to get used to her new surname. 

“I apologise. I was just thinking about home,” she says softly. 

The middle-aged man nods in understanding, offering her a small smile. “I understand. I hope you would make Summerside your new home. The carriage awaits, ma’am.”

_She held Matthew’s firmly, but without giving the impression that she was the one leading him instead of the other way around. It took the man hours to practice walking her down the aisle without stumbling on his feet, and by God, Anne was going to get him to the end of the altar in one piece. _

_Diana’s piano melody drifted in the background but she couldn’t find it in herself to enjoy the beautiful sound. Her attention was solely on the man next to him, who was turning paler by the second. _

_“Let me.” _

_She looked up to see her future husband grabbing on Matthew’s other hand. She nodded reluctantly as Matthew patted Gilbert’s arm affectionately. _

_After seating Matthew next to Marilla in the front pew, she took up Gilbert’s hand which was offered to her. The two walked up to the altar in the most unconventional way. _

_Her thoughts drifted to how he had helped her with Matthew earlier. She didn’t anticipate it and it had thrown her off the loop. _

_“I now pronounce you, Dr. and Mrs. Blythe. You may kiss the bride.”_

_The breath left her body from the way he gazed down at her. She could feel her body trembling, his arms wrapped gently around her waist. _

_Ever so gently, he lowered his head, eyes closed, before meeting her lips with his._

_Just like that, and she became Mrs. Doctor Blythe._

She stares at the porch of her new home, some sort of nervous energy surrounding her. 

“Do you like it, Anne?” 

She looks at the man, taller than she remembers, always gentle, despite her attitude to him. “I do,” she admits. The rose garden lining the house gives off such a delightful scent and the waves crashing against the shore creates the perfect lullaby.

Does she deserve this, though? 

The house is so lovely it’s heartbreaking. It deserves to be filled by the most deserving woman. 

“I know our union is not very conventional, but if you’d allow me to carry you over the threshold, I’d be most honoured,” Gilbert says, his eyes hopeful.

Anne lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

She nods her assent. Her heartbeat picks up at the grin forming on Gilbert’s lips. 

“Thank you, my love,” he murmurs, as he leans down, and in one easy swoop, she’s lifted into his arms. 

She really shouldn’t be surprised by his strength, but the way he walks in easily into the house, a perpetual smirk on his face, throws her off. He looks down at her, his smirk shifting into a gentle smile. His warmth envelopes her like the sun on a spring day. 

“I’m going to put you down now, so that you can explore the house yourself.”

She lands on her feet gently, already missing the warmth of his arms. The man walks before her, showing off the parlour, the sitting room, before heading to the kitchen. The window faces the bay, and the view of the ocean brings a smile to her face. 

“I think this will be your favorite room in the house, judging from the smile on your face,” he guesses, and she nods, still speechless at the beauty surrounding her. 

He grins, and tugs gently on her forearm. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

They leave the kitchen to go down the hallway to a room facing the rose bush. “This is one of the bedrooms,” he says, his tone careful. The bed is queen sized, with a vanity at the corner. A fair-sized wardrobe lines the other wall. 

He gestures for her to follow him to the end of the hallway, his hand resting gently on her hip. The room is larger, with a bay window jutting facing the waters. A vase of freshly cut roses gives a significant burst of colour to the room. 

“It’s gorgeous,” she stutters, a little afraid, a little excited to enter the room. 

Hazel eyes regard her gently. “This is the master bedroom.”

Her cheeks heat up at the soft ways his eyes are regarding her. The sensation travels all the way down to her belly… and even lower. The air feels stifling. 

A hand reaches out to cup her cheek, the touch branding her to the core. Her eyes flutter and she gasps at the delicious feeling. She looks up at the man, her husband, whose molten gaze penetrate deeply into her soul. His thumb caresses her cheek once. Then twice. He wets his pink lips, those pillowy clouds she had the privilege to kiss. 

He sighs. She’s drowning in his eyes. 

“I’ll wait for you, Anne. For when you are ready to share yourself with me. Til then, just know, it has always been you.”


	18. Chapter 18

Her eyes flutter open to the sound of waves hitting the shore. The smell of roses hits her senses, and Anne smiles, before the smile wavers as she starts to remember. 

She is no longer Anne of Green Gables. 

But it isn’t so bad, isn’t it? The beach, the rose bushes, the kitchen... if she could allow herself to actually feel... the house is exactly how she imagines her house of dreams would look like. 

But, is it really hers to claim?

She rouses, tossing the thin blanket aside, mourning the way heat flees her body. _You wouldn’t be so cold if you had allowed your lawfully-wedded husband in your bed,_ the sound in her head chastises. Anne feels her cheeks heating up. 

How is a wife supposed to feel for her husband, she wonders. Yes, he does make her feel things fluttering low in her belly, but she is not in love with him, is she? How could she, when she had buried the feelings deep right when he had departed for Paris. She was so sure that he was married, with a golden-haired babe, or two, who spoke a mix of French and Canadian English, both charming and witty, just like their mother. 

She puts on her summer robe to make breakfast. She chuckles. Isn’t that what her dowry is for? Making a home? Who would have thought that the day would arrive where Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, Blythe now, excuse you, would be a homemaker?

She passes her husband room, whose door is left ajar. She tells herself not to peek, but she sees him slumbering in plain view from the crack. Curly hair tousled, face relaxed, perpetually handsome. She begrudges him his peace: even asleep he looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

* * *

He is lying in bed with his wife, whose fiery hair splashes across his pillow, the smell of lilies permeating his senses. Said wife is blushing as she bites her bottom lip tantalisingly, as she reaches up to cup his cheek lovingly. 

“Gil,” she whispers.

He leans down as he peppers kisses on her cheeks and neck, sucking slightly, grinning as her breath hitches. “Yes, my love.”

She giggles and runs a hand through his hair, tugging gently to get his attention. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening,” he mumbles, sneakily pushing the top button of his wife’s nightgown through the loop. The second one follows, as he pushes the garment away to reveal creamy, perfumed skin.

“Gil,” she moans softly. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m just doing my husbandly duties, my love,” he says huskily, as he lays several kisses on the top of her décolletage. His hand slips higher to gently caress his wife’s bosom. 

She gasps, writhing under him, as her legs fall open to cradle him against her. “It was your husbandly duties that has me in this current condition, Gil.”

Startled, he pulls away. His sensual touches moments ago turn clinical. “Did I hurt you, Anne?” he demands. 

His minx of a wife giggles. “On the contrary, my love,” she whispers, her ocean blue eyes twinkling. She bites the bottom of her cherry lips, and laces her fingers with his, before bringing their joined hands to her belly. “It seems we have created something out of those undivided attention you’ve been paying me, my husband.” 

Gilbert jerks awake at the sound of the rooster crowing. 

He looks to his side, tossing the blanket away. No fiery-haired wife smiling naughtily at him. 

He sighs, sitting up. The sound of pots and pans alerting him to the fiery-haired wife, who has slept in the other room, and most probably is oblivious to how wicked his dream was. It was, after all, the most decadent dream. 

* * *

Anne almost drops the butter knife she is holding. The feel of Gilbert’s lips on her temple burns through her skin. 

“Good morning, Anne,” he greets, a small smile on his lips as he pulls away from her side. 

“Good morning,” she stutters, trying to avert her eyes from the man. He has gotten ready for the day, shirt tucked in but suspenders hanging by his waist. His sleeves are rolled up, showcasing his sinewy muscles. Where would a scholar like him gain muscles like a farmhand, she wonders. 

“Something wrong?”

She frowns. He looks down at her in concern. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“You’ve been holding that butter knife in the air for the past few seconds,” he answers, looking amused. “Were you planning to stab me with it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in jest. 

Anne blushes and quickly finishes buttering up the toast. “I was thinking about the pantry,” she says, as she busies herself plating the toast and the eggs for him. She places the plate at the head of the table, and stands by the side, not knowing what to do with herself. “Breakfast is ready,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry it really is very simple. I’ll do the shopping today for milk and flour.

“Why is there only one plate?” he asks, frowning. 

Anne blinks. “Do you want another helping? Right away?”

Gilbert chuckles. “What I meant, where’s yours?”

She bites her lip. “Man of the house should eat first.” 

His frown deepens. “I’ve been at dinners in Green Gables before, Anne. Matthew and Marilla sit down together.”

Anne weaves her hands together nervously. Why isn’t he sitting down? Why is he interrogating her? “Marilla and Matthew are siblings, Gilbert. They both are equal owners of Green Gables. Whereas here, you’re the rightful master of the house, and -.”

He marches straight to her, face determined, to grab both her hands in his. “And you are the queen of this home,” he stresses. “Anne, I didn’t bring you here for you to be on my every beck and call. We are a T-E-A-M, remember?” he adds, squeezing her hands gently, his smile nostalgic.

She blushes at his recollection to that night in their past, so very long ago. To be reigned queen, by her husband… dare she think it romantic? Anne Shirley-Cuthbert has forgotten all about romance, and to dream of it again, is it wise? 

“Let me make a plate for you,” Gilbert announces, a hand pulling out a chair for her, before pushing her gently to sit down. 

She looks up at him in horror. “I’ll do it myself!” What would he think of her as a wife if she needs him to wait on her? 

He squeezes her arms before bending down to kiss her hair. His generosity with affections is really setting her heart aflutter. And she can’t really deny him when she is rightfully his, can she? 

And truth to be told, it is not really unwelcomed, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where I'm at, we are in partial lockdown. Please stay home, you guys. Together we can beat this pandemic. Much love XXX


	19. Chapter 19

“Do you need help to ready the classroom?”

She shakes her head. They have taken about ten minutes out of his route since he has insisted to escort her to school. “Thank you, but I have made correspondence with the vice principal, she said she will be receiving me today.” 

Gilbert cups her elbow gently. “Do you have everything with you?” 

Anne blushes. The way he looks at her sometimes… It is rather a lot to deal with. “Yes, I do,” she replies. “Run along, Gil. You don’t want to be late for your first day in clinic.”

His eyes crinkle, a dopey smile on his face. “I miss that,” he exhales, looking down at her dreamily. 

She looks on, perplexed. 

“The last time you called me Gil was the day of Queen’s entrance exam result,” he reminisces. 

She purses her lips, a little unsure of how to react. It was also the same day that she found out he had left to Charlottetown to propose to Winifred. 

He looks down at her wistfully. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

Biting her bottom lip, she averts her gaze. She takes a step away from him, trying to create a gap in order to reduce her heartbeat. “I’ll see you this afternoon then,” she replies, effectively changing the subject. 

His face falls, but he maintains a smile on his face. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“You don’t have to,” she hurries to tell him. She is used to commute alone, husband or no husband, she is an independent woman and she refuses to be a damsel in distress. 

He schools his feature, a determined look on his face. “I want to.”

“What if you’re busy?” she rebuts, hugging her books close to her chest, feeling slightly indignant. A few schoolchildren start to appear and looking on curiously at the both of them. 

“Then I’ll send someone for you,” he decides, bringing her back into his arm. “You’re my wife, Anne. It’s my job to ensure your safety,” he says quietly. She opens her mouth to argue, before being shot down by Gilbert. “And I know you’d say you’ve been taking care of yourself fine for the past five years, but let me take care of you for a change.”

She looks away, resigned. “Alright. I’ll be here then.”

He nods, satisfied. He leans down and pecks his wife gently on her cheek, and delights at seeing the blush on her cheeks. A few students passing by snicker and he chuckles, before letting go of the arm completely. “I’ll see you later, Anne.”

* * *

Anne exhales, trying to even her breathing. It has been a peculiar morning. 

There was him plating her breakfast, and the forehead and cheek kisses. She isn’t sure she wants to be so nonchalant about permitting him to shower her with affections. In her mind, and in her previous fantasies, she imagined a romantical man, to woo her with romantical proses and gestures, before confessing his undying love for her, before she permits him to peck her on her cheeks, and maybe later on, her lips. 

But he is a man, who disappeared for five years with the most beautiful woman in town, only to return and inadvertently win favours with her family, and as a result, scoring her as a side-along wife. 

She has turned into exactly what she connoted Winifred as; a result of negotiation. 

“You are Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?” 

Anne looks up, surprised. A woman, medium in height, slight built, donning a pair of glasses looks at her in dare she says, contempt? “Yes, I am. Although…”

“The school does not condone canoodling and obvious public displays of affection with your beau. You should be ashamed of yourself, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert!” the woman exclaims. 

Taken aback, Anne straightens her shoulders. “I appreciate the advice but I would appreciate it more if you could spare the prejudgment. That was my husband, and my new married name is Mrs. Anne Blythe,” she says firmly. The woman looks stunned and draws back a little. Anne inhales, determined not to make enemies on her first day on foreign soil. She holds out her right hand for a handshake. “And you are?”

The woman looks down on her hand, before hesitantly giving her a lacklustre handshake. “I am Katherine Brooke,” she replies stiffly, pulling her hand away. 

Anne’s gaze softens. “Is that with a C or with a K?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile. 

Katherine frowns. “Why would that matter if either sounds the same?” 

“Of course it does. It’s your name and a person’s name is unique. I’d be most displeased if somebody spells my name without the E,” she explains, her smile never wavering. “You look like a Katherine with a K. I am sorry we started on the wrong foot. I recently got married before shifting here and my husband is, well, a little demonstrative.” She purses her lips, slightly embarrassed and ashamed. “I will warn him to tone down his, uh, affections in the future.”

Katherine stares at the tall woman in front of her; all willowy figure and gorgeous auburn hair, milky skin and kind smile, with a handsome and sweet husband to boot. Is she even real? She’s silent, unsure of what to say in fear of putting her foot in her mouth again. 

“So,” Anne resumes. “Would you be so kind as to show me to the principal’s office?”

* * *

It is not yet mid day when she is reunited with her husband. 

“I told them I could handle it but they insisted on calling you because young Mrs. Blythe might not have the experience dealing with a fainted girl before,” she says evenly, not even bothering to greet her husband properly. 

Gilbert refrains from chuckling. “Hello to you, too, my wife. What do we have here?” he asks, kneeling down next to his wife. A boy of about fourteen years of age had run to get him in the clinic, frantically saying that his sister had passed out. 

Anne sighs, gently massaging the girl’s temples, whose head is nestled on her lap. Anne has pulled a screen to separate the classroom from the sickbay, in order to spare the girl’s modesty. The girl’s eyes flutter open at the sound of Gilbert’s voice. “Theodora, this is my husband, Doctor Gilbert Blythe. Gil, this is Theodora, apparently one of the best students in Mathematics here in Summerside,” she introduces, smiling warmly at her pupil. 

The girl tries to lift her head from her teacher’s lap. 

“There, there. Don’t get up yet. You have just passed out and almost hit the floor, if it’s not for David,” Anne explains gently, pushing the girl back down on her lap. “Did you have you breakfast this morning, Theodora?”

Gilbert nods approvingly. He knows to leave it to Anne to ask appropriate questions. 

“I did, Mrs. Blythe. I had gruel, but I felt queasy so I didn’t eat much,” the girl replies softly. “And please call me Dora.”

“Okay, Dora. Don’t be shy, but I have to ask, are you having your monthly now?” Anne asks again. Gilbert nods, amazed by Anne’s natural instinct. 

The girl blushes. “No, Mrs. Blythe.” 

Anne and Gilbert exchange glances. Gilbert clears his throat. “Can I examine you, Dora? I need to check your pulse and see whether you have enough water in your body. Sometimes when you lack water or blood you tend to swoon easily,” he explains patiently. 

Dora nods shyly. Gilbert gently lifts the girl’s wrist and counts her pulse, before checking the pulse on both wrists for irregularity. He checks to see if the girl is warm, she is in fact bathed in cold sweat, her lips and lids slightly pale. 

“I’m going to listen to your breathing and your heart, Dora. I need to place the end piece of my stethoscope on your chest,” he explains, lifting said equipment to show to his patient. “My wife here is going to chaperone us. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me so I shall stop, alright?” 

Anne watches on, silently impressed with her husband’s impeccable bedside manner. He has always been a gentleman, except for recent events leading up to their matrimony, she thinks, bemused. 

“Your breathing is just fine, Dora. You said you felt slightly nauseous, didn’t you? May I examine your tummy? I’ll ask Mrs. Blythe to lift your dress. Is that alright?” Gilbert asks tentatively. 

Dora turns her face to hide against Anne’s lap before nodding. 

Anne looks on at Gilbert’s grim face. Something is definitely wrong. As he concludes his examination and pulls Dora’s dress back into place, she sees him schooling his features into a reassuring smile. 

“I believe it’s a combination of indigestion and lack of iron that is ailing you, Dora. I am going to prescribe some iron and digestive tablets to ease your discomfort. I am also prescribing rest and plenty of fluids for you, young lady. Who would be the reigning Math champion if you keep on falling sick?” he jokes. 

Dora giggles as she tries to sit up with the help of both adults. She turns to face Anne, smiling shyly. “I’m feeling much better after the salt and sugar water you gave me, together with the digestive biscuits. Thank you, Mrs. Blythe,” she gushes. “You’re a splendid doctor’s wife as well as a principal.”

Anne chuckles. “That is the highest of praise, Dora. I thank you.”

“Thank you to you too, Dr. Blythe,” Dora adds, shyly beaming at the man sitting next to his wife. 

Davy comes to fuss over his sister, and after listening to the advice given by Dr. Blythe, he helps her home. 

The couple bide the twins farewell before Gilbert sighs. “Anne-girl, we have a problem in our hands.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everyone doing? I was a close contact to a COVID-19 patient and it was... a journey. I tested negative twice but quarantined myself still for 14 days. I urge everyone of you to stay home so that we can together flatten the curve and break the chain of infection. Take care, lovelies. We are all in this together :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow! Two updates in a month! The power of #stayingathome. Be safe, and stay at home, guys!

Anne looks up at her husband warily. “What kind of problem?”

He purses his lips, thinking deeply. “I suggest we’ll talk more at home, my love. In the mean time, maybe try to get know the staff and the Keiths more?” 

Intrigued, she nods. “Alright.” She hesitates awhile, but seeing him in action as a doctor has made up her mind. She stands on her tiptoes and gives his cheek a little kiss. As a token of gratitude, she tells herself. Nothing romantic, she decides. “Thank you for coming, Gil. I’ll see you at later,” she mumbles shyly.

Delighted, he beams at her, before reaching down to bring her into his arms. He’s tempted to kiss her on her lips but he makes do with her forehead. “I’ll see you later, Anne.”

* * *

“You called for me, Madam Principal?”

Anne sighs. She gestures for Katherine to sit. “It’s Anne, Katherine,” she repeats for the umpteenth time. 

Katherine hesitates before pulling out a chair to sit. “How can I help you, Madam Principal?”

Anne rolls her eyes. “Fine, be that way, Miss Brooke.” She leans back against her own chair, contemplating on how to address the question without raising suspicions. “First of all, I want to thank you for calming down the pupils just now. You did a great job getting them in order,” she praises. 

Katherine gives a small nod. 

Anne pauses, giving room for the other woman to say something. Silence ensues. She clears her throat. “Has that happened to young Miss Keith before?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. 

Katherine shakes her head. “No. But she has been looking more and more sickly for the past few weeks,” she reports. 

“Have the parents been informed?”

Pursing her lips, Katherine sits up straighter. “The Keith twins are orphans. They live with their maternal uncle, who is the gardener for the Pringles, you know, the family that owns almost half of this town?”

Anne raises an eyebrow. “Surely not half. Maybe a quarter? Or an eighth?” she jokes. 

Katherine’s piercing gaze is unwavering.

“Alright, alright,” Anne relents. “Do you know the uncle well? Is there any illness that runs in the family?” 

“No. But sometimes the twins work at the mansion on the weekends to earn extra income for the household,” Katherine adds monotonously. 

Anne nods, pondering. 

“Adam Pringle stares at her sometimes.” 

Anne looks up cautiously. “Do they talk to each other?” 

Katherine shakes her head. 

“Miss Brooke, I hope you understand, I care about my students beyond their academic achievement. I want them to grow into healthy adults, physically and emotionally,” Anne begins. “Some of the questions might befuddle you but I am just trying to get to know them better. I hope you understand.” 

Katherine nods. _She is a talkative fellow, isn’t she_, Anne notes dryly. 

“Thank you, Miss Brooke. You may return to your class.”

* * *

“Oh, Gil. You simply have to enlighten me to this problem you were talking about. My afternoon was spent thinking the worst,” Anne urges right after the front door closes behind them. 

Gilbert looks at his wife grimly. “Let’s go and make some tea, Anne. You will need it.”

The two work in tandem putting the tea to draw. Gilbert folds up his sleeves and helps his wife to bring out the tea set. 

“I can do that,” Anne says quietly. 

“What sort of a team player would I be if I don’t play my part?” he answers, not looking up from arranging the cakes they bought from the bakery on the way home. “Now, sit down, Anne. Let me serve tea for you.”

She slowly sits at the chair pulled out by her husband. “You need to let me earn my keep, Gilbert,” she mumbles. 

Gilbert frowns. “I’m sorry, are you a hired hand of mine? Didn’t I marry you just a few days ago?” He places a cup filled with sweetened tea in front of her. “Earl Grey with a cube of sugar and a dash of milk for you.”

“How do you know how I take my tea?” she wonders. 

He leans down to peck the top of her head, chuckling at her startling from his kiss. “We had tea together before, hadn’t we?”

Anne shrugs. “I’m very sure you’ve mistaken me with Winifred. I am confident we never had tea before,” she answers curtly. 

Gilbert’s face falls as he drops into his seat next to Anne. Another thing he regrets. 

“Who cares about that. I want to know about young Miss Keith,” she adds, effectively closing the topic on the past. 

Gilbert clears his throat, trying to focus his attention on the matter at hand. “What did you find out about the Keiths?”

Anne laces her fingers together. “They are twins and they are orphans, living with their maternal uncle,” she begins. “He works for the Pringles, who apparently own half the town?” 

Gilbert nods thoughtfully. “Yes. They are the royalty of Summerside it seems. I hope this scandal doesn’t involve any of them, or if not, we are fighting an even bigger evil.”

“What scandal, Gil? Out with it!” Anne admonishes. 

He takes a deep breath. “My deduction, based on her symptoms and my examination, concludes that young Miss Keith may be with child.”

Anne gasps, a hand flies up to cover her mouth. “Surely you jest!”

Gilbert shakes his head regretfully. 

She buries her face in her palms. “Oh Gil, she’s far too young to suffer through marital relations!” She bemoans. “And to be with child!”

He frowns. “_Suffer_ through marital relations? Yes, there was intercourse that took place resulting in pregnancy, but surely you know there are different types of touch that can happen between a man and a woman.”

She scoffs. “Isn’t it the same? Legs shoved open or bent at the waist, nine months later a babe or two pop out!” 

Gilbert sits back, looking at his wife, his face wary. “Anne, in the case of Dora, given her age, which might mean limited understanding of the act, it may be non consensual. But it should never be that way between man and wife.”

“When the pecker rules, I don’t think it makes much of a difference, Gilbert,” she mutters bitterly.

Gilbert reaches over to grab her hands on his, looking at her earnestly. “It will never be that way between us,” he vows. “There will be respect, love, and mutual consent. There should not be any suffering involved,” he adds sternly.

She blushes, thinking of her and her virile husband, lying in bed, sans clothing. Her body heats up at the image. Then she remembers how Mrs. Hammond’s face scrunched up the many times she stumbled upon Mr. Hammond forcing himself on his wife, fully clothed, in broad daylight, after coming back from the beer parlour. Another image of a faceless man pushing innocent little Dora on her back enters her stream of consciousness. “You are a man, Gilbert Blythe. It is pleasurable to men, but for women, it can be dreadful,” she protests. 

“Anne Blythe! Would I ever hurt you?” Gilbert exclaims, falling down to his knees in front on his wife. He shakes his head in mourn. “I can’t claim to know what little Dora was feeling when she was defiled, but I assure you Anne, I will NEVER take you against your will. I will NEVER hurt you.”

Surprised, Anne looks down at her husband, who is looking back at her in earnest. Gilbert ascends from his kneeling slowly, towering above her, a determined look on his face. “I will prove to you, my love, there can be loving touch between a man and a woman,” he whispers, before leaning down to kiss slowly on her lips. “If only you could give me a chance to.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Gilbert John Blythe!” Anne yells. “If you don’t retreat from the stove now I will burn your books!”

Gilbert laughs, as he expertly plates the scrambled eggs. “Now I truly know you’re full of hot air because you would never burn any books,” he jests, placing the plate gently on the dining table. His eyes sparkling, he leans down to kiss her dainty nose. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

“Good morning,” she mumbles, feeling the heat creeping up her cheeks. “You’re still not ready for work, Gil. And for God’s sake, I hope the smell of grease won’t be stuck on your clothes!” She scolds.

“I am!” He argues, sliding his suspenders in place. Anne almost swoons at the sight of his pants conforming against his shapely backside... she squeezes her thighs together, reliving some of the pressure in her groin. Her eyes follows the movement as he rolls down his sleeves, and Anne almost weeps as she loses sight of those sinewy muscles…

The sight of him struggling with his cufflinks prompts a snort from her. She approaches him and bats his hand away. “Let me,” she says, taking over the much tedious job. 

“I swear I am usually much more dexterous,” he mutters, flushing. 

“I’m sure,” Anne teases. She expertly loops the cufflinks through the holes. 

Gilbert plants his hands on his wife’s hips, bringing her closer. “Well, maybe we could help each other out. Do you need anything buttoned up?” he flirts. He leans down closer to whisper in her ear. “Or unbuttoned?” 

Anne’s cheeks flame up as she knocks once on his chest before retreating. “Hurry up, Dr. Blythe. We are late as it is, what’s with you insisting on making breakfast,” she lectures. 

“But I want to show off my skills to you,” he pouts, sitting down on the chair pulled out by Anne. 

“Well, I appreciate them, but I’d appreciate them more if you have time management skills included in your resume,” she says, already pouring a cup of coffee for her husband. 

At school, Gilbert helps his wife to step out of the carriage. “Thank you for the ride,” she says, holding her books tightly to her chest. 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course it is unheard of for a husband to personally deliver his wife to the front step of her workplace,” he jokes. 

“Fine. Thank you just the same. And thank you for breakfast. You do have skills, Gilbert Blythe. That cumin in the eggs, that’s a nice touch. Must be some woman with expert domestic skills who have shown you the way around a kitchen,” she remarks nonchalantly. 

Gilbert grins. “Are you insinuating jealousy, my wife?” 

It is her turn to roll her eyes. “I am not. I am just thinking out loud.”

Gilbert chuckles, leaning down to speak in her ear. “Me thinks she doth protest too much.” He laughs at the blush that colours his wife’s cheeks. “The truth is, I spend a few summers in the back room of a cafe. One of these days I’m going to show you my skills with pâtisseries. Then you’d definitely fall in love with me, no questions asked,” he declares. 

She rolls her eyes again and steps away to the school entrance. “Goodbye, Dr. Blythe. I will see you this afternoon.”

He tugs on the ribbon on her waist, pulling his startled wife back into his arms. He admires her naturally-sculpted brows and rosy cheeks. And those plumps cherry lips. “My goodbye kiss, Mrs. Blythe,” he says, raising an eyebrow. 

She frowns. “I was reprimanded by my vice for your excessive display, Gil. You really should refrain yourself.”

He shrugs. “You’re my wife. Besides, we should set an example of how a healthy marriage looks like to your pupils.”

She raises an eyebrow. 

He looks back equally as hard, challenging her gaze. And stoops down to peck on her cheek, coming up to his height with a triumphant smile. 

“I’ll see you later, wife.”

* * *

“Mrs. Blythe, may I speak with you for a moment?” 

Anne looks up from marking an essay to see a tall lanky boy standing at her doorway. She smiles and gestures for Lewis Allen to sit. “How can I help you, Mr. Allen?”

Lewis sits up straighter as he is addressed as an adult. “I am originally from Richmond, a day ride from here. On schooling days, I stay at the boarding house,” he explains. “I am the son of a farmer and a homemaker. They don’t make much so it is up to make to make ends meet to support myself through school.”

Anne’s heart breaks for him. Here is a young boy of mere sixteen, already working to support himself. He greatly reminds her of another remarkable man she knows… “Is there any way I can help ease your burden, Mr. Allen?” she asks gently, pushing her marking to the side to fully pay attention to her pupil. 

“There is,” he hesitates. “I wonder if you would hire me as the groundskeeper for the school. Previously the upkeep was done and paid by the Pringles. But I heard the Pringles have refused to subsidise for the salary of a gardener this year.”

This is news to her. She has to check with Katherine, who handles the school’s non-academic staffing. “I will check with Miss Brooke. But do you think you can handle the job on top of your schoolwork?” 

Lewis nods confidently. “I have a timeline, Mrs. Blythe. I shall enrol into Queen’s next summer for a diploma, before going to Osgoode Hall for my law degree. It is imperative for me to make enough money to support me in Charlottetown next year.”

She looks at her pupil in admiration. “These are very strong aspirations, Mr. Allen, and I’d be honored to help you achieve them,” she speaks. “Let me meet up with Miss Brooke and the two of us will come up with something to help you.”

Anne does not have to go through the troubles of approaching Miss Brooke as the woman presents herself to Anne’s office after school. “May I have a word with you?” she asks solemnly. 

Anne nods, feeling wary. 

“The Pringles have decided to withdraw their annual contribution to the school this year,” Katherine announces, thick frown lines marring her forehead. 

“I may have heard of a similar news,” Anne says carefully. “What does the contribution cover and why are they withdrawing their donation? Have the fallen bankrupt all of the sudden?”

Katherine snorts. “If the hurricane goes through Summerside and destroy all the Pringle houses they would still have enough money to rebuild them three times over.”

Anne raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Pray tell then, why the sudden… penny-pinching?” 

Katherine looks pointedly at Anne. 

“Because of me?” she exclaims. “What did I do?” 

“Well, you did steal away the position meant for one of their third cousins,” Katherine explains, shrugging. “This is ample reasons not to be too generous to the school from here onwards.” 

“Well now,” Anne sighs, leaning against her chair. She thinks of Avonlea and its lack of aristocratic bloods, apart from extremely wealthy Barrys and those pretentious Pyes. Some may hold more influence with the villagers, but never were they abusive of their position in the society. 

“You were asking about Theodora,” Katherine speaks. 

Anne looks up at her warily. “What of it?”

“I think I may know where you and your husband are heading with it, and I strongly suggest you tread with caution,” she continues, without malice. 

Anne rubs her chin. She contemplates speaking freely with her vice principal of two days. “I need to speak to their uncle for the possibility to bring his niece for further check up with my husband,” Anne says tentatively. 

“I will send for Herbert.”

“_I_ will talk to him, Miss Brooke,” Anne adds, gentle but with authority. “And we are going to brainstorm on how to get funds for the school. The Pringles are not the only means to survive in this town, are they?”

* * *

“Gil, you can’t believe what Katherine Brooke had told me this afternoon,” she starts, barging into her husband’s office. Mrs. Dew, his secretary, did mention that he is without patient. 

“Hello, wife. Nice to have you here in the clinic,” he greets, standing up to welcome her. He beams, gesturing to the guest sitting in front of her. “Mr. Lawson, shall I introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert Blythe.”

Startled, Anne stops her ranting as she realises who her husband’s guest is. “Andrew Lawson?” 

Andrew’s face dawns with realisation and his face falls slightly. “Anne,” he breathes. 

Gilbert pauses, slowly piecing the puzzle. “You know of each other?” 

“Mr. Lawson was my classmate back in Queen’s,” Anne explains tentatively. “How are you doing, Mr. Lawson?” she asks respectfully. “I didn’t know you would be here in Summerside.”

“I took the position of the town’s solicitor effective next week. I am here to get to know my neighbor,” Andrew answers, gesturing to Gilbert. He smiles wistfully at her. “Last you told me you were not courting,” he remarks in a teasing manner. 

Anne blushes, knowing full well Gilbert looking sharply at her. “We were not,” she reassures. She hears a sharp intake of breath coming from her husband. 

“It’s a whirlwind romance, then?” Andrew asks again, curious. 

“Yes,” from Gilbert, while at the same time, Anne answers, “It’s a family match.”

Having enough, Gilbert wraps his arm around her waist in a show of solidarity. “A successful family match,” he reiterates. 

Anne mums her words. She knows when to shut up sometimes. 

Andrew leaves after exchanging more details about his lodging and the couple issues an awkward invitation for dinner in the foreseeable future. 

The door closes behind Gilbert and he leans back against it, arms crossed. His eyes looking steadily at his wife. “Just how many of these admirers I need to fend off, Anne Blythe?” 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked, I deliver. Will be pretty steamy and I mean, steamy from this chapter onwards. Deals with exploration of sex. You have been warned.

“I will bring her down to the clinic next Monday for further checkup, under the pretense as a follow up from her previous episode,” Anne concludes. 

Gilbert nods. He has been quiet since their meeting with Mr. Lawson. “You have to chaperone me when I interview her. Bring David along to avoid suspicion.”

Anne nods, agreeing, sensing his mood. She starts to stand up and gather the dirty dishes from the table. 

“Anne, could you please sit for awhile. There are other things we need to discuss,” Gilbert says, his face expressionless. 

Anne relents, her heart thudding. The journey home from the clinic was plenty awkward. He went straight to his room and did not come out until it was time to help with dinner.

“As a team, I think we need some ground rules. I shall name some, and you shall add your own input. Do you agree?” he starts, tilting his head to the side, a piece of his hair falling down his forehead. She resists the temptation to push it away. 

“Anne?”

She snaps out of her reverie and nods quickly. It sounds ominous, but she appreciates Gilbert including her as some sort of an authority figure for their household. She wonders morbidly how long would this ‘team’ last?

“First, I shall help you to prepare meals whenever I’m able to. And I shall receive no complaints from you,” he starts, raising an eyebrow to challenge her. 

She frowns. “That’s my job, Gil. You shouldn’t need to be bothered by the chores around the house.”

Gilbert leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His forearms manage to distract Anne a little. “Then, pray tell, what’s a husband to do around the house? I don't have cows to milk and land to farm here, Anne-girl.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Smoke the cigar. Take a nap. Read the newspapers. But definitely not cooking and cleaning!” 

He barks out laughing. The frown etched on his wife’s face is really quite fetching. “Anne, I don’t smoke. And how long can a fellow take a nap and read the papers before he grows bored?” 

“I don’t know! Pick up a hobby then!” 

“What if my hobby is helping my wife, and cooking then?” he rebuts, smiling smugly. 

“Suit yourself,” she mumbles, crossing her own arms in defiance. 

He chuckles. He so very wants to reach over and cups her cheek, but he wants her to take him seriously. “Second, we shall go on walks and high teas at least once a week, no excuse about it.”

“What would be the point?” she blurts.

“I deprived you of a proper courtship. I’d like to correct my mistakes,” he admits, his face hopeful. There is no way he is slowing down his efforts to win her heart, although she is already lawfully wedded to him. He will not lose her to the likes of Lawsons and Gardners. 

“You don’t have to do this. We are married. I don’t begrudge you anything,” she replies bluntly. 

“But I want to court you, Anne,” he protests, leaning forward.

“What good would it do? I still come home to you. I still belong to you,” she rebuts, failing to see why he feels the need to turn back time. “You don’t have to do anything just to appease your guilt. I don’t blame you for any shortcomings in our marriage. It is what it is. We were never courting but now we are married. Why don’t we just leave it at that? This courting nonsense is just going to be a waste of time!” 

“I don’t see it as a waste of time if I could win your heart that way!” he exclaims. “I don’t do it to appease my guilt, Anne. I want to go on walks with you. I want to bring you to soirées and parties and have the honor of dancing with you. I want to wine and dine you because you deserve _everything_.”

“If you’re worried about robbing me the experience of being wined and dined by you, Gilbert, you don’t have to. I’m sure you’re fully experienced with your multiple trips with Winifred. As for myself, I might not have had many offers, no thanks to you, but the one I had was pleasant with good enough memories,” she remarks, her eyes blazing. She stands up abruptly, gathering the dishes from her husband and her own and bringing them to the sink. 

Incensed, Gilbert stands up and blocks her from the kitchen, removing the plates from her hands. “I’m making you a third deal, Anne. I won’t talk about you with another man if you stop talking about Winifred. She is _ancient_ history,” he speaks, his voice belying a warning, of what, Anne can’t tell. 

“I really do not mind speaking about my outing with him. He really was the perfect gentleman, and handsome too. We would have started something before this rushed nuptial. He’s -,” her words cut off as he slants his lips over hers, in an effort to stop her from talking. 

Anne protests, pulling away, as Gilbert’s arms wrap tightly around her waist. “What are you doing?!” she shrieks.

“I don’t want to _ever_ hear you talking about another man!” he snarls lowly, his eyes darkening. “Did he kiss you?!” he demands, shaking her once.

Bewildered, Anne’s mouth drops open. 

“Did he kiss you!” he repeats, louder, his grasps around her tightening, chest to bosom. 

“N-no,” Anne stutters, slightly scared, because the ever gentle Gilbert Blythe has never raised his voice to her. Slightly thrilled, because the authoritative and dominant aura is eliciting delicious tingle down her spine and belly. “But why should you care? You’ve kissed Winifred plenty of times!”

“I have never, _ever_, kissed Winifred. Not once.” 

Anne shakes her head, disbelieving. “You’re lying,” she hisses. “How could you not? She’s so beautiful, so enticing, I don’t believe you were not once tempted.”

“I wasn’t at all. My heart, body and soul only belongs to you,” he mutters, one hand grasping her chin. Their eyes meeting, Anne gasps at the intensity of his gaze. His lips descend on hers again, bruising hers with insistence. He gently bites her bottom lip and squeezes her hip, sending a wave of heat to her core. 

Gasping, her mouth falls open before his tongue seeks entrance, gently swiping the roof of her mouth. He tastes decadent, hint of vanilla from dessert, the smell of his sandalwood infused cologne is giving her a heady feeling. Her knees grow weak from his ministration, and she grasps tightly on his shirt to avoid from falling over. 

Gilbert can’t seem to get enough of his wife. He can feel her sliding down against him, therefore he gathers her in his arms, lips still fused, and settles her small frame on their dining table. He massages her thighs, coaxing them to fall open, and he steps closer, thankful for the light skirt she wears at home. 

Out of breath, chest tight, Anne pulls away, only to tilt her head, giving way for her husband to kiss down her neck, the feel of his lips addicting. One of his hands is cradling her back, the other is untangling her single braid as her eyes fall shut at the wonderful feeling. The buttons of her shirt impedes his journey, she yearns for his big warm hands on her bosom, and subconsciously, she reaches up to help with his mission by slipping the first, the second, then the third button through their loops. 

There is a pressure on her most private area, which is growing by the second. It is the most delicious feeling, especially when Gilbert starts rocking into her, the friction sending her flying. His hand wanders to her décolletage, pulling her shirt apart, before his lips descend to suck greedily on the top of her bosom. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he mutters, both hands holding her hips steadily as she begins to writhe closer to his. He alternates laving kisses to the top of each breast, careful only to bring pleasure, and not pain. He pays special attention to the beloved freckles peppering her chest; he was right, she does sport them, _everywhere_. The way his wife moans and gasps is indication enough of her need. She retaliates by pulling him impossibly closer, crossing her legs behind his backside, while her dainty hands roam his chest, pushing buttons through loops and pulling shirt out from his pants. 

This strange feeling that is expanding in her core with every suck and kiss. She longs to feel his lips around her buds, already throbbing behind the confines of her corset. If the sensation he elicits from kissing her mounds is any indication, she reckons him sucking her nipples would feel like heaven! Alas, her corset impedes the progress, she makes do by thrusting her chest to him, panting, shamelessly wanting more.

“Gil…” she moans, pulling him closer, needing to feel him against her better. The heat is getting to her, she wants him to surround her, to fill her. She pools her skirt higher, until only her bloomers separating her sex against his clothed erection. 

“You like it that way, sweetheart?” he asks, panting, pulling slightly from raining attention on her chest. He notices the pressure of her heels against his backside, and the thinning layers between their hips. He looks into her bottomless grey-blue eyes, glassy from lust, her bruised cherry red lips parting, vixen through and through.

She nods rapidly, eyes closed, biting her plump bottom lip. 

He rocks into her, feeling his head almost breaking through her slit beyond the thin cotton of her bloomers. “You’re close, aren’t you, Anne-girl?” he whispers, getting a whimper in return. “What do I need to do get you there, my love?”

She gasps, pulling him impossibly closer, her hands roaming his sculpted chest, as she leans up to hide her face in his neck. The moment she hits the precipice, she shudders, and falls into the abyss. 

“Rule number four, my love,” he whispers, as she tumbles back down to earth, feeling his strong arms around her back, her drenched sex slipping against his erection. “You need to just ask, and I will give it to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, that was pretty... descriptive just for a dry hump. Hahha. Hope I didn't disappoint.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no excuse for this. Take it as a filler of whatever. I'm putting these chapters out now because I have to return to full shift next week to continue the fight against COVID. So as a PSA, #stayathome so that we can all #flattenthecurve.

_ My Beautiful Anne, _

_ I am writing to you from the cabin of the ship carrying me away from you. Further away with each waves crashing, my heart is sickened from the thought of leaving you without disclosing my intentions in person. _

_ I tried to come up with an excuse, but it was my weakness and hesitating uncertainty that has led to my missed opportunities to confess my affections and desire for you. I have wasted months, by inadvertently courting another woman, breaking my heart and yours in the process. From now on, I vow to be a stronger man for you, my love, for me to deserve a place in your heart. _

_ Please know, sweetheart, I carry no romantic affections for Winifred, as my whole heart was always held by you. In my dreams, you were and are always the beacon of light, beckoning me home, even from my journey to Trinidad, to briefly losing my faith and fidelity, who has vowed to staunchly love you. _

_ My dryad,  _

_ My erroneous way has left me with regret, for I’ve longed to belong to only you, first, and last, and forever. In my last letter, I vowed to never be engaged, unless it’s to you, and it shall ring true, until the day you deign me with an answer.  _

_ Til the next missive, my love. Extend my gratitude to Marilla and Matthew, please, won’t you, my love. My thoughts for Ka’kwet and her family. How I long to join the plight to fight for their justice side by side with you, where I believe I truly belong. I’m praying for Providence to be in your vicinity, taking care of my dear heart, when I am so far away to do my part. I worry with the most darkest fear for your safety.  _

_ I love you, most tenderly,  _

_ Gilbert _

* * *

Anne’s jaw drops open.

Gilbert Blythe had written her a love letter.

She clutches the letter to her chest, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart. She has found his missive tucked in between her stationary, when she was in pursuit of writing to Diana about their tryst last night. The yellowing paper was unfolded neatly by likely her bosom friend, as she recalled assigning Diana to pack her reading table before moving to Summerside. 

Anne had left the bed early that day, after a sleepless night of tossing and turning in her bed. The image of her husband, whose intense gaze was directed to her, bringing her to whatever heaven that she had ascended to last night, kept her awake. Every time she remembered the heat from his dark hazel gaze, something delicious licked her low in her belly, and she tried to imitate the feeling born from the friction of their hips. 

Anne knew enough the mechanics of intercourse. Not the whole sordid details, mind you, but she has the adult knowledge of what goes in where. She had seen Mr. Hammond rutting into Mrs. Hammond enough time to know that the woman did not enjoy her husband’s attention at all, from the grimace on her face. There was a time she had dared to push her husband away, only for her to eat the table from the force of her husband’s fist to her head. 

But the way Gilbert had kissed her had spurned something in her… something primal, something private, something which would never be enough, and the enormity of it scares her. 

In return, she was not afraid of his touch, as what she felt Mrs. Hammond had endured, rather, Anne felt a craving which could only be fulfilled by his touch. 

Perhaps she should feel ashamed by how fast she turned putty in his hands. She remembers being so wanton, pulling him so close she could feel the shape of his manhood against her…

And to think she had his heart from the beginning… Does it still hold true?

Lust is something she finally could understand, but is this love?

The knock on her door snaps her out of her reverie. 

She panics, looking down at her flimsy nightgown, sans the protection of her corset and petticoat. Her hair unbound, her face unwashed. And what is he doing waking up so early on a Saturday?

But didn’t she want him to touch her under her corset? Wasn’t he the one who unbounded her hair? 

Feeling brave, she calls him in. 

Gilbert peeks his head, that unruly curls so endearing without pomade to tame it in place. “I come bearing breakfast,” he whispers, his eyes gentle, unlike the passion-filled gaze last night. 

Anne nods shyly, beckoning him in, pulling the blanket to her chest. “You should have woken me up if you wanted breakfast early, Gil,” she chides softly as he places the tray on her bedside table. She notices he’s only in his sleeping pants, with a very tight undershirt that displays his broad shoulder and chest. She sighs, she can’t deny that her husband is simply Adonis reincarnate. 

“I know you like French toast, or _pain perdu_, as the French calls it,” he says, preoccupied with balancing the tray on table. He turns to face her, but his jaw drops at the sight of her. “Did i do that?” he croaks, pointing to her neck.

Anne frowns, her hands fly up to her neck. “Do what?” she asks, confused. 

Gilbert purses his lips, as he studies her neck, but his eyes darken as his gaze shifts lower. His wife is only clad in a flimsy nightgown, the material so sheer he could see her rosy peaks, almost taunting him. Closing his eyes briefly, he takes a deep breath to divert his attention from the tantalising sight in front of him. 

“Come here, Anne-girl,” he says, holding his hand out. She looks at it, biting her bottom lip contemplatively, before getting out of the bed and taking his hand. He almost groans at her silhouette wrapped under the flimsy material of the gown; perky breasts with rosy tips and legs for miles. 

He pulls her to the antique standing mirror by her drawer. He stands behind her, tugging slightly at her neckline. Anne gasps seeing the bruises on her neck and chest. 

“I’m sorry, Anne,” he mumbles in remorse. 

Anne blushes. She runs her fingers along the purplish tinge of her skin. The bruises feel slightly tender, but it brings her back to the delicious feeling of his lips on her skin. 

“I have some arnica salve we can apply on those bruises,” he says softly, still entranced by her beauty. He leans against her back, his lips on her hair, as he wraps his arm around her waist, his thumb rubbing gently on her skin. 

Anne intuitively leans back against his chest, as her eyes stray to the image of her husband in the mirror. She reaches up to run her fingers in his curls, resulting in a soft grunt, as he nuzzles his face in her neck, and she notices the horrible mark on his own neck. She gasps. “Oh my God, Gil. Is that my doing?” she asks, incredulous. 

Gilbert pulls away from her neck to look into the mirror and notices the prominent bite mark on his neck. He chuckles. “That was when you came, my darling,” he whispers, resulting a deep blush on her cheeks, which follows down to her chest. “Guess both of us have our shares of battle wounds,” he jokes. 

She swallows her giggle, which eventually escapes after a tickle on her tummy by Gilbert. The man looks at her with soft eyes. Bless her heart, she melts. “Aren’t you hungry, Gil?” she murmurs, eyes fluttering close as Gilbert runs his lips gently down her neck. 

“In fact, I am, my love,” he mumbles. “Do you mind if I start feasting now?” 

Her chin upturned, his lips pressed gently on hers. One hand wanders on her tummy, as the other massages her hips, before slipping in between her thighs. He pulls away from her lips, requesting consent, and Anne nods once, his fingers leaving traces of fire on her skin. 

His other hand slips under her neckline and reaches down to cradle a breast in his palm before giving it a gentle squeeze. His warm calloused hand unleashes a heaviness both in her breasts and loins. She writhes in his arms, a moan escapes her at the feeling of his fingers massaging her lower lips, rubbing on the nub, before dipping into the crevice. He gently probes her with one, then two fingers, as his other hand pinches her nipple.

“Gil…” she moans. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he coaxes. Her eyes fly open to the sight of her nightgown hiked to her hips, exposing her pink cunt, his muscled forearm flexing with his fingers playing her lips tantalisingly. The image burns into her memory, to become fodder for her imagination. 

She startles as he falls down on his knees in front of her, and lifts one of her legs to place it on his shoulder, before burying his face in her cunt. His tongue probes in between her lips, and the sensation is so intense that she screams. Fistful of curls wrapped around her fingers, as she pushes his face closer to her pussy.

She comes with a shake, as the fluid gushes from between her legs. Out of breath, she looks down to the face glistening with her come, smirking up at her. 

“Now, how about some breakfast?” 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what this is. Maybe the calm before the storm? 
> 
> Stay safe, stay home.

_ July, 1904 _

_ My dryad, _

_ I bore witness to the most intimate act, feeling so much like a voyeur. But instead of seeing them, I had imagined us. _

_ I imagine lifting you on our kitchen table, after a playful preparation for dinner. You would be wearing your hair down. How lovely the tresses would look! I’d be inching your skirt slowly.... kissing along your dainty calf. Your scent would be my guide... and I would be kissing you most tenderly in between your legs. My tongue parting your nether lips... your nectar would be the sweetest elixir I’ve ever tasted. _

_ Do you know that a man, a worthy man, will bring pleasure to a woman, even only with their mouth? I intend to do that to you, my beautiful vixen. The hunger I feel for you is boundless. Forgive my forwardness, but I dream to please you as often as I can. I can almost imagine seeing you writhing in pleasure, your moans filling my ears… It is enough to drive me wild for you, my love.  _

_ I want to kiss you on your lips, til they bruise with my affection. I want to kiss you on your neck, savoring your sweet lily smell. I want to kiss you on your breasts, sucking on your tender buds, til you quiver with want for me to fill you. And I want to kiss you on your belly, soft and sweet smelling, with the hope that one day it will swell up, giving life to our baby.  _

_ I can’t wait for the day when I call out your name in throes of passion, and you would be calling mine out too.  _

_ Til then, I desire you, in the most scandalous way.  _

_ Gilbert _

* * *

“You made love to me with your mouth.”

Gilbert almost drops the axe in his hand. He turns to face his wife, who, until moments ago, was tending to the rose bushes. “Yes, I did,” he confirms. 

Anne narrows her gaze against the blinding sun. It is the perfect Sunday. The night before, he taught her how to make croissants from scratch. The kitchen was filled with flour flying every other way, and his delightful laugh in her expense.

_“Sweetheart, I didn’t think I would see the day where I would be a better baker than you are,” he exclaims. _

_Anne frowns. “You are a awful teacher, Gilbert Blythe,” she remarks, mourning her misshapen croissants. She looks enviously at her husband’s perfect creation. He has such a gentle healing hand, also very talented in the bedroom (or the kitchen table), and to add gifted in dough rolling to the list wound be entirely too much. _

_“I’ll have you know I was a teaching assistant back in my senior year, Mrs. Blythe,” he boasts. _

_Anne rolls her eyes, hiding a smile at her husband’s exuberance. “Just for that I’m going to eat your perfect croissants tomorrow, and you are eating mine.”_

_This morning, she woke up extra early to beat her husband to the kitchen, only to see him busy baking the overnighted dough. He presented a perfectly baked croissant with butter and jam to her with a flourish. “For my queen.”_

_She eyed her own distorted croissant on his plate. “You don’t have to eat the ugly ones I made, Gil,” she admonished. _

_“Don’t make fun of my wife’s effort, please. I’d be glad to eat whatever she makes me,” he says, taking a bite, moaning slightly at the buttery taste. “Outward appearances don’t matter, Anne-girl.”_

_“That must be the reason why you married this girl,” she joked._

_He chewed silently before standing up. He kneeled down in front of her, surprising his wife. “What now? she asked warily. _

_“I just want you to know, I married the kindest woman, with countless kindred spirits to her name, which goes to show how lovely her heart is. She is also the smartest, the bravest, the most loyal companion I could ever ask for. She has the fiercest heart, who fights for justice, not only for herself, but also for the good of others, as she has vowed to be the relentless thorn in the side of those who refuse to amend the status quo,” he quoted, smiling at the memory as Anne blushed._

_He grabbed her hands in his, kissing them once. “Sometimes I couldn’t believe my luck how I finally had the honor to call this incredible woman my wife. Her spirits is a match to her beauty. The fiery hair that I love so much? I have dreams about it, my love, the racy kind.” Anne blushed at his wink. “And these cerulean eyes, the window to your soul? I keep finding myself drowning in them, my love.”_

_He pulled her up, planting his hands on her hips, pulling her close. “And this morning, I had the blessed opportunity to see her for the first time,” he sighed, running his hands up her side. _

_She shivered._

_“You’re exquisite, Anne-girl. Inside and out. And I am so honored to have the privilege to be your husband.”_

“I won’t ask for specifics, and I know it isn’t my right, but was I your first?” she asks bluntly.

He faces her fully, planting his axe down. “It is your God given right to ask, and yes, you were my first,” he reaffirms. 

She frowns, looking down at her gloved hands. “It felt like… you’ve done them before.” 

He purses his lips, and keeps the distance between them, trying not to spook or coddle her. She needs to listen to the truth from his lips. “I can’t claim to be virtuous, as my eyes were not averted from sin. I worked in gentleman clubs in Paris, which employ women to entertain upper-class men who pay for their… services.”

Anne gulps. So he has seen… outside of his medical training. She looks up at him from her position on the stool, her expression neutral. “What did you work as?”

He crosses his forearms in front of his chest. “I was a bartender, sometimes a bouncer, a bookkeeper by the end of each month, depending on the needs,” he hedges on. 

“I read one of your letters today,” she confesses. 

He nods in understanding. Sometimes when his need for her overwhelmed him, he resorted to write it down in full details on what he planned to do to her, no holds barred. He colors slightly at his audacity. What if Marilla had read them? He groans at the thought.

“I’m sorry, Anne. Sometimes when I missed you too much, I resorted to doing things… I’m not proud of. Forgive me for my crude words,” he apologises, his gaze falling to his feet. 

“Does that mean you don’t really want to kiss me between my legs on the kitchen table?”

He looks up so fast, he almost gets a kink in the neck. She has her poker face on, which she has mastered for the past five years he was away. He swallows. “I do, if you want me to,” he replies, like they are discussing how many sugar she wants in her tea. _You don't know how much __I badly do_, he thinks silently. 

“I saw Mr. Hammond pushing Mrs. Hammond on her knees once,” she whispers, looking at the beautiful roses in her garden, as if the vibrant colors are enough to eradicate the ugly ones from her memory. 

“He asked her to suck him, and I could see from her face, it repulsed her,” she continues. 

Gilbert waits for her to continue. 

“Would you like for me to do that for you?” she asks suddenly, looking at him with her piercing stare. “Do you want me to suck you?”

Gilbert chokes, stumbling on his feet. “It is a privilege to men, not a right. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to,” he manages to utter. 

“But do you want me to?” she repeats, tilting her head to the side. 

He groans. “That is kind of a trick question, isn’t it, Anne?” 

“It is not!” she rebuffs. She bites her lip, deep in thought. “I may want to try it,” she confesses, eyeing him through her lashes. 

He groans again, turning his torso away from her at the awakening of certain anatomy of his after her confession. “You can’t say these things to me, Anne,” he moans. 

She stands up to walk closer to him. “Why not?” she asks stubbornly, removing her gardening gloves. “How is it fair that you can unabashedly say that you wanted to kiss me between my legs, but I can’t voice out that I want to try to,” she pauses, looking discreetly around them, although their house is at least a mile away from their neighbors. “Try to suck you?” she continues, lowering her voice. 

Gilbert tries to march away from his wife, who manages to catch up to him. She pulls on his hand and leads them to the back of the house, where a shady tree stands. “What are you doing, Anne?” he asks her warily. 

“I want to please you like how you pleased me,” she says simply, pushing him to lean against the tree. 

He catches her wandering hands with his, his eyes uncertain, pleading. “My love, you don’t have to do this,” he says, sighing. 

She shakes her head, adamant. “Just consider this a part of my learning experience, Gil,” she lectures, as Gilbert lets out another groan. The agony of his wife’s hands travelling down his chest, as he is trying his best not to offend her with his conflicting desire. 

Anne slowly lowers herself into kneeling in front of him, as she comes to the same level as his hips. Already he is straining his pants, and the bulge looks so painful constrained. She ghosts a hand across the swelling, and her husband jerks. She tentatively unbuckles his belt, then proceeds to unbutton his pants.

Gilbert’s manhood springs out. 

“Gil, is this supposed to fit into me?” She asks, her voice wavering. 

Lost in the feeling of her ministration, he startled and looks down. “Yes, if you permit, one day,” he replies huskily. 

She reaches up to surround her palm around him. “You are so much bigger than Mr. Hammond, Gil,”she marvels. “So much bigger.”

He chuckles lowly, pleased, albeit he sounds strained to her ears. “I’m pleased to hear that, my love,” he murmurs. 

“What do I do? Do I put you in my mouth?” She wonders. “You feel so warm and smooth.” Her finger traces a particular bluish vein to his head, and he groans. “Am I causing you pain, Gil?” She asked, panicked. 

He shakes his head. “No, Anne-girl. It’s just, men are extra sensitive there. A simple touch can be… pleasurable,” he mutters, writhing against the tree. He looks down into her innocent blue eyes, always curious. He reaches down to push a stray auburn curl behind her ear. The image of her lips next to his cock is overwhelming: it feels surreal, but somehow at peace, like he’s supposed to be experiencing all this with this woman he is fortunate enough to marry. “Do whatever you feel most comfortable, Anne. I won’t force you,”’ he grits out, 

The sight of her pink mouth enveloping him is both heaven and hell. Heaven as her mouth feels so warm and velvety, hell as he is unsure he can control himself before thrusting wildly into her. Her tongue licking the underside of his cock sends his head into a tailspin. 

“I can’t fit all of you in my mouth, Gil,” she remarks, trying to make do with her hands. Her cheeks flush, having him in her mouth was something she never imagined herself doing. She looks up to his face, that beautiful blasted face, all flushed, his head tossed back. “How is it going to fit in me later, if I can’t even put all of you in my mouth?” She wonders. 

He looks down at her again, resting a hand on her cheek. She blushes at his tender gesture. His eyes glassy, and Ruby’s words of them being full of romance comes back to her. “I’ll prepare you so that it won’t be painful for you, my love,” he says, cupping her cheek. 

She bites her bottom lip. The thought of him easing into her is creating such a delicious heat in her core. She licks the pink bulbous head again, and sees his cock jumps slightly in her hand. His gentle moan continues as she sucks him, harder, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. 

His hand entangles in her hair, massaging her scalp, pulling slightly on her strand, and she can feel her bun loosening, her hair tumbling down her back. The sensation spurs her on, she makes a continuous suction on his cock, tightening her lips around him. She could feel a gush of fluid flowing down between her thighs, and subconsciously she reaches down with her free hand to grab on her breast, trying to alleviate the throbbing in her chest. 

“Anne, love, I’m going to come,” Gilbert moans breathlessly. He stops her bobbing motion on his cock by grasping her chin and pulling away, just in time for his cock to spurt his seed on the grass. 

She watches in awe, as he pants, eyes closed, his flushed skin so seductive. She stands up, feeling wobbly due to her prolonged kneeling, and reaches out to grab his shirt. His eyes fly open and he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. 

“Thank you, my love,” he murmurs in awe. 

She bites her lip, refraining from the pull to kiss him. “Did I please you?”

He chuckles, leaning over to kiss her on her forehead. “More than.” His lips curve into a smirk. “Of all the places, Anne. I didn’t think I’d be getting my first fellatio under a tree, surrounded by the perfume of our rose bushes. How very romantic of you, Anne-girl,” he quips. 

She giggles. She leans closer, unable to deny herself from kissing his lips anymore. He tastes divine, of their morning coffee and a flavor that is essentially him. His manhood bobs between them, pressing against her tummy. 

“Don’t mind him,” he whispers, grinning at her. “He just likes you and your attention too much.” 

She slowly lays her head on his chest, as they stand together, their breathing synching. “Gil?”

“Yes, my love?” 

“That was a lovely dessert.”


	25. Chapter 25

“You can put back your dress on, Miss Keith,” Gilbert says, withdrawing from behind the curtain. 

He exchanges look with his wife, and shakes his head. Anne looks on in dismay. 

A few minutes later, Dora appears from behind the curtain, nervous and wary. He gives her a reassuring smile, and gestures for her to take a seat. 

“I have a few questions to ask you, Dora, and it is up to you to answer me. Mrs. Blythe here is to chaperone and also to help make you understand certain questions I am going to ask you,” he explains. “Is that alright?”

She slowly nods, her gaze shifting between the two adults in front of her. 

“When was the first time you had your monthlies?” he asks. “Don’t be shy, Dora. It is a normal process of growing up and becoming a woman.”

“The first time I had my monthlies I thought I was dying. My foster mother had a difficult time convincing me. It was a hoot,” Anne says in an effort to reassure the younger girl. Her husband however, snorts inelegantly, prompting her narrowed gaze at him. “Gilbert Blythe, you don’t know the plights that women have to endure every time we menstruate!” she exclaims. 

“But your monthlies is a sign you are on the path to becoming a woman,” he explains. “Despite the pain and the… messiness, it is worth it to bloom into a full-grown flower, so to speak,” he adds.

It is Anne’s turn to snort. “I’d rather be a tree than a flower then. The pain is excruciating, is it not, Dora?”

Dora bites her lip, her face scared. “I haven’t had my monthlies for the past two months, Mrs. Gilbert,” she confesses. 

Anne’s face falls. 

Gilbert clears his throat. “And you started feeling sick and dizzy a month ago, correct?”

Dora nods.

Gilbert clasps his hands together on the table. “Dora, has a man ever touched you, in between your legs?” he asks gently. 

Dora looks up frantically at Anne, looking for guidance. 

“It is alright, Dora. You can tell Dr. Blythe about it. This is a safe space, between the three of us,” Anne encourages, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

Dora bursts out crying, burying her face in her hands and she nods her head repeatedly. 

Anne’s heart breaks. She reaches over to engulf the girl in a motherly hug. “It’s alright, dear girl,” she coos, her own eyes glassy. Her husband’s face is equally dismayed.

How is it a mere child of fourteen have to weather this much adversities? Her life is just beginning, but she has already have to put up with society’s judgment once the news of her pregnancy breaks out. 

“He said it was going to be alright. I didn’t want to, Mrs. Blythe. It was so painful! He told me not to make a noise, and it should be a secret,” Dora sobs, burying her face on Anne’s chest. 

It is the most dreadful afternoon for both husband and wife. After depositing a somewhat calm Dora into her brother’s concerned guard, the two pupils wait for their principal to bid her husband farewell. 

The door closes behind them as she falls apart, sobbing in her hands. A pair of arms engulf her, and Gilbert pulls her close under his chin. “I am sorry, Anne-girl,” he murmurs. 

“She is still a child, Gil,” she whimpers, crying for Dora, crying for the injustice of it all. 

“She is,” he agrees, smoothing the hair on her forehead. “But she has you, and I, and we will help her. It is Providence that you are here, Anne.”

* * *

_ Dearest Parents, _

_ It has been mere a fortnight but I have missed Green Gables and its occupants! I missed waking up to the sound of Snow Queen’s leaves rustling in the wind. I missed waking up to the smell of your bread rolls baking in the oven. I missed milking Prejudice and brushing the silky mane of Belle and Butterscotch.  _

_ My sweet Matthew, I hope you have not been exerting yourself. I will be on the next train if I so much as hear that you have stumbled on your feet. And Marilla, please take care of your health too. I have a constant fear of you being indisposed for days due to one of your vicious headaches. I worry that my two most favorite kindred spirits are so far away from me, when it is supposed to be my duty to care for the two of you.  _

_ Oh, Cuthberts, half of my heart is missing! _

_ Summerside is so beautiful. The house that Gilbert bought is such a dream, Marilla. I wake up every morning to the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the smell of roses from the bushes lining the property. We have a shady red oak out the back, sometimes I find myself looking at the tree, missing my Snow Queen back home. One of these glorious autumn mornings, I strive to go and read a book or two, in order to be better acquainted with my new surroundings.  _

_ Dearest Parents, _

_ I am afraid I am suffering from despair this early in my principalship. One of my young orphaned pupils is with child and she is none the wiser. She is only of fourteen years, just a year older from the time I was fortunate enough to be adopted by you two lovely beings. Oh parents, I wept for her uncertain and bleak future. Gilbert said it was Providence that brought me here and it felt like my calling to do what’s right for her. I am turning to my wisest confidantes to guide me through this very arduous journey.  _

_ Til the next one, my loves, _

_ Anne with an E, forever a Green Gable girl.  _

* * *

“Miss Brooke, I fear I may need your assistance beyond the scope of your job as a teacher,” Anne begins. 

Katherine looks at her warily. She first suspected something is awfully wrong when Anne wrote a note for her to meet during recess in her principal office. “I can’t guarantee to be of great help,” she warns. 

“It’s fine, Miss Brooke. I need a sounding board more than physical help.”

“Does it concern Miss Keith?”

Anne nods grimly. “Did you send for her uncle?” 

Katherine nods. “Yes. He can only make it on Friday, Mrs. Blythe. On other days, the Pringles keep him on a very tight leash,” she reports. 

“Well. It gives me plenty of time to prepare my speech then,” Anne decides. She looks at Katherine hesitantly. “I am about to tell you something of confidence, involving a pupil’s reputation. Can I trust you to keep it to yourself?” 

Katherine leans back against her chair, raising an eyebrow speculatively. “From your acumen, could you trust me?”

Anne stares right back confidently. “I could.”

Katherine’s face softens. “Well, then.” 

Anne reveals Dora’s situation as delicately as she could, in the softest tone possible. She notices how Katherine’s usually blank expression shifts into one of dismay, and Anne feels like, maybe, she can count on Katherine after all. 

“What do you plan on doing, Mrs. Blythe?”

Her lips curve into a sad, albeit hopeful, smile. “Be a relentless thorn in the side of those who refuse to amend the status quo.”

Katherine raises an eyebrow. “I wish you all the best, Mrs. Blythe,” she says. “Be it as it may, I am starting to warm up to you. I’d hate to lose you as my supervisor.”

Anne chuckles. Such warm words coming from a stoic Miss Brooke. 

Her vice principal proceeds to place an envelop in front of her. “This comes to you in the mail, but was sorted wrongly to my pigeonhole.”

Feeling her spirit lifting up, she gleefully reaches for the letter. “Oh, it must be from my foster parents, or one my bosom friends!” she enthuses, turning the letter around to read the name of the sender. Her eyes widen at the scribble on the back. 

“Must be some bosom friend this Mr. Gardner, to garner that kind of expression, Mrs. Blythe,” Katherine remarks offhandedly. “Well, I shall be off. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

“I fancy having tea this afternoon with you, Anne,” Gilbert says as he tucks her hand in his elbow. It is a nice day, he has just arrived to pick her up from school.

Her heart picks up. “I am feeling a bit under the weather, Gil,” she blurts.

His face changes into one of concerns. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Oh, no. Next time then. Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

In all honesty, she is unable to take the vision of Gilbert having tea with Winifred out of her mind, and for them to recreate the picture, just to ease his conscience… She’d rather not, at all. 

The words that were exchanged between them. How he would have flirted with the golden haired beauty. How he would have praised and lauded her with compliments. The exchange of shy and flirty smile. Maybe a hand hold over the table. 

Try as she may, she can’t get rid of the images from her mind. She feels her heart squeezing at the thought.

But she can’t possibly tell him that. Maybe she won’t mind so much experiencing it with another man. Maybe she wants to experience having another suitor too. 

She thinks of the envelop sitting in her drawer. 

She chastises herself. She is a married woman! She should not be thinking about having tea with another man!

It is quite thrilling, to have the attention of a man like Roy. Somebody who is a stranger, without any previous intertwined history with her or her family and friends. It is like a clean slate. No previous attachment, such as being childhood friends, that may influence his favor for her. 

“How does chicken soup sound for dinner? I fear anything too complicated would not sit well in your stomach,” Gilbert suggests as he helps her into the buggy. 

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, Gil. I can still prepare dinner for the both of us.”

“You seem to have forgotten our pact fairly quickly, wife,” Gilbert remarks, raising an eyebrow. The horse pulls forward with his cue. 

Anne blushes. She would not be able to put off having tea with her husband forever. Faking sick every week to a doctor spells for a disaster. She needs to come to terms with the situation; either sucking it up and dealing with it, or just try to erase her thoughts and bitter memories by knocking her head into a wall. 

“Why is having tea very important to you?” she asks, curious. 

Gilbert mulls his answer. He votes to go to the simpler route. “Because we never had any together.” 

She nods, trying to emulate a response. “So, it is for the sake of having the experience?”

He purses his lips. “You could say that. We associate memories with experiences, don’t we? So I want to create good memories between the two of us, starting with experiencing tea together.”

Anne chuckles. “Good memories are not usually very premeditated, Dr. Blythe.”

“Ah, but you are wrong. Not all of us can be as spontaneous and dramatic. A lot of us actually requires a lot of planning in order to make something memorable and worthwhile.” 

“Did you, uh, plan your outing with a certain debutante back then?” she asks hesitantly. 

“That was pretty out of the blue, actually.”

“Oh?”

He sighs. “That was the day I felt rejected although I was never clear with my intent. Therefore it should not be about me and I should really not assign the blame to others,” he replies sketchily. 

Anne frowns. She is unsure on how to proceed. “Then what should it be about?”

He pauses, and turns to look at her intently. A hand wraps around hers, squeezing gently. “It should be about me evaluating my intention, and not about boosting my ego.”

She drops her gaze. Her words stuck in her throat. “So. Did she? Boost your ego?”

He chuckles sadly. “No. If at all, I felt like I lost something I’ve never even had.”

Anne gulps, bracing herself with her decision. “Gil, I have an important meeting with a colleague over the syllabus this Thursday in Charlottetown.”

He looks shocked at the sudden change of topic. “Sure thing, Anne. Let me write up my colleague in Kensington to cover for me.” 

“Oh, no. Don’t go through all the trouble. I’ll be back by Friday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be too mad at Anne. She is still unsure of her feelings. As an adult, she tries to compartmentalise her feelings, dissociating herself mostly due to avoidance and fear of being left behind again. Why am I being all psychoanalytical in a chapter note is beyond me...


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this happened. 
> 
> I am happy to report the cases of COVID-19 in my country has been reduced to only double digit! I am so proud of the authorities we have, our government, frontliners, our countrymen, everybody is doing his/her part to control this pandemic. Of course, 2020 is forever going to be remembered as the year we all stayed home. 
> 
> I hope you all are well. Stay home for you, and your loved ones :)

“What could be so pressing, Mr. Gardner?” 

Gardner smirks, leaning against his seat, thoroughly satisfied that his heart’s desire is sitting directly in front of him. 

“I have missed you, Anne.”

Anne feels like her heart is beating out of her chest. They are seated in a highly appropriate setting of the Province House in Charlottetown, where two colleagues of the opposite sex are able to conduct a meeting without scandal. 

“You can’t send me letters like that, Roy,” she admonishes, trying her best to keep her expression neutral. She clasps her hands together, trying to calm herself. 

_What are you doing, Anne?_

Gardner’s smile widens upon hearing his name from her lips. He leans forward against the table, devouring with his eyes her dainty nose, her kissable lips, her rosy cheeks… “Did you come all this way to chastise me for writing to you?”

She blushes. She has no business sitting here in front of him. Except there was a summon, a plea, almost, from him, and she was inundated with ‘what ifs?’. “Among other things. You do remember that you have to provide a fortnightly report on the Avonlea school to me,” she replies, busying herself with her notebook, trying her best to avert his eyes. 

Deep green. Not hazel. 

“Ah,” he says, opening his own briefcase to pull out a folder. “I come prepared, my dear.” He shuffles a few documents around, trying to appear as if they are discussing something academic. 

“Please refrain from endearments when referring to me, Mr. Gardner,” she comments curtly, taking the papers handed to her from Gardner. 

Gardner purses his lips. “Very well.” He points to a figure on the paper. “As you can see, the school lacks funding for textbooks and literature, as well as to refurbish broken furniture.”

She follows his finger to scrutinise the numbers, before noting the asterisk where a donation has been made to cover the funds. “Oh. What Providence. Who was the generous soul?” she inquires curiously.

Gardner shrugs. “A Good Samaritan.”

Anne looks at him dubiously. 

“I have a topic I want to discuss,” he broaches hesitantly. “It has something to do with the indigenous in Avonlea.”

She listens to his plight to allow indigenous and children of color places in the school. She had struggled with the same issue previously, but thought she had won the battle when Delphine was allowed into Sunday school. 

Ka’kwet’s niece, a young thing of twelve with promising future has caught Gardner’s attention. But since Anne’s departure from the village, there are a few elders who are still stuck in their old ways trying to create problems. 

“But Mrs. Lynde had given them a tongue lashing during the last town meeting. However, I can’t be sure it won’t happen again when the next indigenous children try to enter the system,” Gardner reports. 

Anne sighs. “I am sorry I didn’t brief you about the issue before I left, Mr. Gardner.” She looks at him wistfully, the fact that he is fighting the same battle as she is appeals him to her. If she is not already somehow attracted to him. She digresses.

Gardner shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, Anne. If at all, it made for a thrilling adventure in an otherwise mundane environment,” he replies, smiling. He looks down at his clasped fingers. “I apologise for my improper advances in the letter too. But I fear that I needed to come clean with you,” he confesses. 

Anne’s heart speeds up again. Heat colors her cheeks as she remembers the words that he had penned down. 

_ ——-to declare sentiments of affection … _

_ —— love persists otherwise ….  _

_ —— if dreams do come true, you would have been mine … _

“I shall advise that you should be careful on what you say to me, Mr. Gardner,” she warns halfheartedly. 

He nods once. “I wouldn’t want to scandalise you in public.” 

She sighs. “Then why can’t you call me by my married name?” 

“Because I can’t get you out of my mind,” he utters softly. “I know that you are married, but I can’t for the life of me, repeatedly break my own heart by uttering your married name.”

Anne’s jaw drops open slightly, attempting to say something. 

“I am going to hand in my resignation. Do not fret, I have discussed with the board and they already have a replacement for me,” he continues. “It’s about time I stop living my life as a passing fancy and shoulder the responsibility of my family business.”

“I am not telling you to force your hand, Anne. I am amazed by you, your beauty, your intelligence, your empathy. You have both friends and foes singing you praises, everybody in Avonlea is proud of their Miss Shirley-Cuthbert, the first woman bachelor who is not afraid to fight for what’s right,” he reminisces, smiling softly. 

“I saw how you care for the children, for your family, and staying gentle and kind despite being inundated by your own personal troubles. You have bewitched me, and unfortunately for me, you are not obtainable by me.”

“I merely want to enlighten you, there is a man, or maybe more, who highly admire you. I do not expect your favor, but maybe,” he pauses, wetting his lips, before looking at her intently. “You may want to know that you have options.”

Anne blushes, her heart galloping in her chest. “I am not that type of woman, Mr. Gardner,” she replies harshly. 

“Forgive me, Anne. I am not insinuating anything. I know you are an honorable woman, one of the many reasons why I admire you so.”

“I love my husband, Mr. Gardner,” she blurts, then taken aback by her own admission, she pauses. She leans back against her chair, trying to calm the beating of her heart. Dark curls, dimpled smile, romantic hazel gaze. Kissable lips, strong hands, sturdy chest. Kind, witty, brilliant, strong. “I love him,” she repeats, resoundingly clear.

Gardner looks at her inquisitively, trying to delve into the depths of her thoughts, which is horrifying even to herself. The first person she shared her feelings for Gilbert happens to be her suitor. How ironic, she thinks.

“It is flattering to receive attention from eligible men such as yourself, but there is nobody else. for me,” she confesses, truly feeling her words, for the first time ever.

He sighs. “I thought….” he hedges on. “I thought I’d have a chance,” he adds softly. “My apologies for the cause of anxiety to your heart.” 

“You are a good man, Mr. Gardner. I wish you the best and I wish you well. Hopefully, in the future, you are open to be a friend, because I can sense a kindred spirit in you.”

Gardner chuckles. “As you are," he replies. He looks at her wistfully, perhaps for the last time before it becomes indecent for him to do so. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Anne. You deserve it all, and more."

* * *

Anne half runs and half skips to the house, her heart floating in her chest. She loves him! She loves Gilbert Blythe! She loves her husband!

Too elated with the discovery of her heart, she jumped on the next train back home, eager to share her revelation with her husband. From afar, she could hear the waves crashing against the shore. Gilbert would already be home from work. She could see their buggy parked outside. 

What would she tell him? How would she tell him? 

Should she just shout out to him once she opens the front door? Or should she do it in a more discreet manner, over a romantic dinner perhaps? Oh, she does not have much time to prepare an elaborate dinner. He loves pot roast, maybe she should make it this weekend. 

It feels so liberating to come to terms with her feelings. Five years in the making. She had often just stared at the envelopes that came from the land so far away, wondering why he would bother writing when they had nothing left between them. She was tempted of course, to feast her eyes on his words, but in true Anne Shirley fashion, she held to her grudge and belief that he was nobody to her, until that day, a few months ago, when she saw his face again for the first time in five years. 

Absence did make the heart grow fonder, if only she had listened to her heart earlier. 

But not all is lost. She vows to love and honor him, and to correct the mistake that she did, and to cherish him. Oh, to cherish him, the way he —

She pauses her stride as she witnesses the happening on her porch. Her husband, the one she is eagerly returning home to a day earlier, is wrapping his arms around a handsome blonde woman. A familiar one from their past. His past. 

As what he had claimed, and apparently an untrue one. 

She is no stranger to heartbreak. But this time around, she is more adept to handling the pain. Without breaking her stride, she turns around, away from the house she thought a home a mere minute ago. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responds from the previous chapter were mindblowing! I apologise for the scandal of it all. These two hard heads just don't get a break, do they? I try to write how I imagine they would be in a fight, passionate, shouting at each other, pointing fingers, etc etc. Bear in mind, in my head, it's J. Crombie all the way. Lucas just doesn't do it for me, hahhahha. Apologies to his fans though. So, have at it. It looks like push and pull, but isn't it the nature of their relationship? 
> 
> I've read every single one of your reviews and I appreciate them ever so much. Here's hoping I will have the time to reply to each one of them as I am going back to shift again tomorrow. Stay home, kids. Wear your mask and wash your hands!!

“Thank you, Dr. Blythe. I didn’t know what to do because the bleeding wouldn’t stop.” 

Gilbert chuckles. He collects the suture needle carefully before dunking it into the alcohol. “Nothing to worry about, Mr. Allen. It is my duty to treat my patients, regardless of the time.” He raises an eyebrow at the young man. “But what were you doing chopping woods this late in the evening?”

Lewis scratches the back of his head with his good hand. When he told the good doctor that he lacerated his finger trying to sharpen axe for wood chopping, he didn’t think through the reasoning. “A staff is staying over the school compound for the night. I felt bad because the school is still recruiting a new grounds keeper, so I took it upon myself to help.”

Gilbert frowns. “Who would be staying overnight at the school? And why?”

Lewis recalls the bizarre request of his principal when he ran into her this evening. Why would she be putting up a night at school when she has a perfectly comfortable home? Is Dr. Blythe not as gentlemanly as he appears to be?

“I haven’t seen Mrs. Blythe around. Has she gone to bed?” he asks casually, avoiding the subject. 

He could almost swear that the doctor is pouting. “She is currently outstation in Charlottetown for a meeting,” Gilbert replies, feeling utterly dispirited at the thought of being separated from his wife for the first time since their wedding. “She will be back tomorrow though,” he adds, trying to cheer himself up. 

“How long have you known her, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lewis continues, trying to distract the doctor. 

There is a wistful smile on the doctor’s lips. “Since I was thirteen. But she didn’t give me the time of day until our final year in school,” he reminisces. “She was such a spitfire, bold and brave. And so beautiful,” he adds, laughing at himself. “Like a moth to a flame, I fell irrevocably in love.” 

Lewis ponders on the doctor’s reaction. Then, why is his missus opting to sleep at the office tonight?

“I had to leave for five years for my study. It was a tough decision because at the time I was still uncertain if she would ever have me. It was not easy trying to win her heart, but I believe I am getting there,” he says, laughing. 

Well, you may need to try harder, Lewis thinks, taking pity on the doctor. “Doctor Blythe, I am about to tell you something, which may betray the confidence of another party,” he confesses. 

* * *

It is not the first time Gilbert is witnessed to Anne falling asleep with tears on her face. Both times his heart broke, much like what he is feeling right now. 

She is still in her day clothes, as she lies on her side, her hair in a messy bun. He kneels down in front of her, taking in the swollen lids and flushed cheeks, still so lovely, still so Anne. He wonders what goes on in her head, is she dreaming about whatever that is causing her grief, feeling dismay at the thought of her keeping everything bottled up from him. 

When Lewis hesitantly confessed to him about Anne’s whereabout, he could feel his heart dropping to his stomach. There he was, missing her, anticipating her return tomorrow by surprising her with the gift brought by by Winnie - 

Did she see him with Winnie and misconstrued everything?

He surveys her office, trying to make sense of what she has been thinking. There is her carpet bag by the door. Her coat was tossed on the table, next to some scattered documents. He goes to straighten the paper and to collect her coat, and notices a piece of parchment with endearments so out of place for her, a married woman. 

His blood boils the more his eyes devour the words. It has crossed his mind that it is inappropriate to read his wife’s correspondence, but surely there is an exception when it comes to love letters from another man addressed to his wife?

Is that the reason why she left for Charlottetown? And came back isolating herself and crying?

Gilbert feels like punching something, his ire consumes him, and sadly the subject that has ignited his anger is miles away in Charlottetown. He looks at his wife, who is starting to squirm from her perch on the chesterfield. His anger is replaced by anguish. Would she ever love him?

“Gilbert,” she gasps, sitting upright on the couch. 

“Anne,” he mutters curtly. “Let’s go home.”

The journey home is quiet. Anne tries to leave a gap between them, which is not an easy feat, as the buggy jostles from side to side. She hugs her bag to her chest, hoping for some sort of a shield from the man beside him. She knows he would never hurt her physically, such a gentle soul he is, but again and again, he has been breaking her heart, and she has no guards left against him. 

The man himself is stoic beside her. She was shocked to find her in her office; thinking in dismay that Mr. Allen must have taken it upon himself to inform the doctor about her whereabouts. She can’t really be angry at her pupil; maybe he had assumed that she had simply fallen asleep in her office, and thought to call upon her husband to come to fetch her. 

The air is thick around them as she pushes the front door open. _Did they kiss against the door? Too impatient to wait to be in the bedroom?_ She walks hastily to her room, and passes by Gilbert’s and promptly sobs at the sight of his bed. _How many times did they make love?_ He must have missed her so much, as having a defunct wife who refuses to share a bed with him must have left him ravenous for the blonde woman. 

“Are you too sad to eat dinner, my love?” he asks, his tone almost jeering to her ears. She whirls on her feet. _His audacity!_

“I am in the depth of my despair, you don’t have to rub it in,” she mutters, looking away from him. 

He laughs sardonically. “I don’t think you should starve while feeling despondent about your affair.”

“If you must know, dear husband, I had a bite to eat while you were busy with YOUR affair. Not that it was any of your concern,” she retorts, marching to her room. 

“You’re still married to me, whatever you do is my concern,” he calls to her back. 

“Do not bother, Dr. Blythe. I am sure you have your plate full,” she replies from over her shoulder. “I shall be out of your hair tomorrow,” she adds, before closing the door to her room.

He marches to her room, tossing the door open. Shocked, Anne jumps backward. “What did you say?” he growls. 

“I said, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow,” she stutters. _Why is he so mad, when she is relinquishing her rights to him?_

“So you could be on your merry way to Gardner? I don’t think so!” he barks. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t go to Charlottetown today to meet him!” he accuses. 

Anne flushes. “I went to meet him as a colleague and a supervisor!” she replies hotly. “While you, on the other hand, invited your lover for a tryst while your supposed wife was away for work! I know how fond you are of furnitures, Dr. Blythe, but I do hope you have sanitised the kitchen before you made dinner,” she continues snidely. “Or did she have the honor of christening your bed?” she says softly, her eyes piercing, but her words cutting him, deep. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, wife,” he mutters, trying to reign in his anger. He steps closer to her, as she steps backward. “You were and are always so quick to jump to conclusion,” he continues, his voice low. 

“Oh? Like you aren’t?” she rebuts, trying to increase the distance between them, but to no avail as she feels the bed hitting the back of her knees. Her husband looks downright menacing and she feels her heart beating out of her chest. 

“Did he touch you?” he asks, looking dangerous, as his eyes darted from her hair, to her lips, and she could feel his gaze travels down her neck, to her chest, which flushes at his attention. 

“No,” she whispers, feeling a tight coil in her lower belly forming as his gaze becomes hooded. 

He tugs her roughly into his arms. One hand grabs the back of her head, tilting her face up gently. “Anne Blythe, I’m going to tell you something. And you are going to listen. And you’re going to listen good.”

“In no uncertain terms should any other men apart from our family, with a special privilege to Cole, be allowed to touch you. I am a possessive man, my love, especially when it comes to you, and I don’t share.” He leans down to brush his lips against hers. “This lips,” he utters. “Only for me to kiss.” 

He ventures lower, trailing his lips along her neck. She shudders at the trails of fire it leaves her with. “This neck. Only for me to nibble.” She moans, inadvertently arching her back. His free hand tugs roughly at the collar of her blouse, causing the dainty pearl buttons to scatter on the floor, exposing her décolletage to him, and he bites gently at the swell of her breast. “These breasts,” he mutters in a gravelly voice. “These breasts are only mine to suckle.” 

He feels her palms meeting his chest, and the pressure of her pushing him away. Instantly, his ardor is doused by the thought of his wife rejecting him. Reluctantly, he relinquishes his hold on her and steps back. “I’m sorry, Anne,” he mutters, unable to look her in the eye. Shame engulfs him for the way he has treated her. 

Wordlessly, she wraps her hand around his and tugs him to follow her. He trudges behind her, as she leads them to his bedroom. She closes the door behind them, before turning his body to face her. 

Hazel meets cerulean. His heart thunders in his chest. 

“Did you bring her in here?” 

He wrinkles his forehead. “Who?”

“Winifred.”

“I swear to you, she didn’t even step inside.”

She nods. She continues to unbutton her destroyed blouse before tossing it to the side. Gilbert’s mouth waters as she unbuckles her skirt, letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in her petticoat and corset. Her eyes hold his gaze as she unties her offending corset and peels off her undergarment methodically, revealing her unbound breasts and her shapely hips. Gilbert feels the heat stirring in his groin, but refuses to make a move as not to spook her. 

She reaches up to remove her hairpins, letting her hair tumbling down her back. She fluffs her hair slightly, before resting her hands by her side. “Will this convince you to stay?” she asks, standing nude in front of him. 

He admires her strength. Before him stood a fiery-haired dryad, illuminated by the moonlight, the only subject of his fantasies. He knows it takes a lot for her to reveal herself to him. “I will stay regardless.”

“Look at me, Gilbert.”

“I am, Anne.”

She steps closer. He doesn’t move a muscle. “Look at me,” she urges softly. “Do you want me?”

“I want all of you,” he whispers, allowing himself to look at her lips. “I want you, body, mind, spirit, heart, darling.”

She pulls him to the bed. “Then have me.” 


	28. Chapter 28

“I do want you, Anne, so ardently,” Gilbert mutters. “But not when you are still doubting my love.”

Anne reaches up to push the button of his shirt through the first loop. It astounds her how bold she is acting, standing naked in front of a man. _A man who is your husband, Anne. A man who shares his name with you. A man you love, irrevocably. _

“You came back to Avonlea,” she whispers, as her fingers push the second button off. 

Gilbert nods. “I came back to you, to our family. I had always planned to come back.”

“I wrote to you before you left,” she confesses, her hands hanging on his shirt lapel. 

“I didn’t get your letter, Anne. If I had received it, I would have gone to you earlier. I would not have left Avonlea without professing my love to you face to face,” he beseeches, as he gently wraps his arms around her naked waist. Her skin feels velvety under his touch. He yearns to caress more of it. 

“But you would still have left.” Her eyes glassy. 

He nods, his own heart breaking. “I wanted to be the best I can be, even if it meant I had to leave you for awhile, Anne. Because I wanted to be the best for you.”

“She was with you for five years. I had known you for less before that. I can’t win against her in that sense,” she mourns, a tear escaping down her cheek. “I fear she would always have that against me.”

He shakes his head, his voice cracking. “In my eyes, there was only you. In my dreams, it was you who I kissed. In my fantasies, it was you who I made love to.” 

They kiss once, chastely, and rest their foreheads against each other’s. 

“You’ve had me all these years, darling, from the moment the slate came down on me. But do I have you, Anne?” he begs, kissing her once on her lid.

She bites her bottom lip, contemplating, before removing his hand on her hip, to bring it to her cheek. “Likely you recall, you _do_ have me, body, mind, spirit,” she whispers, bringing his hand to her chest. “And _heart_.” She reaches up to whisper in his ear. “There is no way this heart could belong to anyone else. It has been yours and will always be yours,” she confesses. 

What happens next is the kiss that beats all kisses. He kisses her with all the passion he’s bottled up inside. She matches her pace with his, going on her toes, her dainty hands busy with the buttons of his shirt. 

Her hand trembles as she pushes his suspenders off his shoulders, and follows the curve of his backside, before pushing his pants down. He moans against her lips, and reaches down to lift her onto the bed. 

“You are magnificent, Anne,” he breathes, as his eyes feast on the extraordinary beauty in front of her. Spectacular red hair fanning his pillow, her gorgeous milky skin with constellation of freckles, her swollen red lips, her full rounded breasts with rosy peaks, a tuft of silken red hair between the apex of her leg.

She bites her lips and blushes at the sight of the naked man standing in front of her. Tanned skin, broad shoulders, dreamy wavy hair. Her eyes linger lower at the ridges of muscles over his abdomen, the veins popping over his arms and eventually, they settle of the throbbing organ in between his legs. 

“You’re beautiful too, Gil,” she murmurs shyly. 

Grinning, Gilbert slowly climbs the bed as he is welcomed in between her legs. He leans down slowly, her arms going around his neck. He cradles her head within him palms, and leans down to kiss her lids. “Thank you for this gift, my love,” he murmurs. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” she replies, a gentle smile on her face, as she reaches up to connect her mouth with his. 

They kiss gently, the pace a vast difference than their frantic getting together earlier. Gilbert spends time caressing her body, followed by his fingers, before marking the trail with his lips. 

He kisses her with reverence on her neck, with passion on her breasts, and utmost devotion on her most secret place between her thighs. Until she quivers in delight, pulling at his hair, before he crawls back to plant his lips on hers.

“In me, husband,” she pleads, and Gilbert obliges. 

The tight coil within Anne’s belly is expanding. A sharp sting pierces through her as his cock goes deeper, filling her, and the pain and pleasure cuts through her and she moans. 

She squirms around, feeling restless, her breasts feel so tight and heavy, Gilbert’s cock sitting deeply and heavy in her cunt. “Gil, please...” she begs. 

Gilbert pants and he leans down to drop a kiss on her eyebrow. He’s afraid to move, afraid of hurting her. But her ridged muscles surrounding him is so hot and tight. He groans and reaches down to suck a mouthful of soft milky breast into his mouth. 

Anne cries out, mewling at the overloaded sensation. “Please, Gil!” She bites her lips, inadvertently squeezing his cock with her muscles. 

Gilbert grunts. He’s been told of this; the warmth, the silkiness, encasing him so tightly, and he’s been told the bliss may end prematurely if he doesn’t get ahold of himself, risking disappointing himself and his bride. “Tell me how you feel, Anne,” he murmurs, pecking on her lips, prodding with his tongue to coax her to release her bite on her lip. He remains static, savoring the feeling of being in his wife for the first time. 

“I feel so full, Gil,” she moans. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he apologises, withdrawing a little, as her moans intensify, and she clenches slightly around him. He groans, burying his face in her neck. 

She nibbles on his ear, and the delicious rumble in his belly is making him even harder. “You filled me up so much I felt like I was at the brink already, honey. You don’t have to apologise,” she murmurs, reaching down to grab his buttock. “In me again, husband,” she commands softly. 

They kiss, as he moves within her, slow, weaving themselves together. She pulls while he pushes, she bites when he nibbles, and when he groans in pleasure, she moans, and when she finally crashes, she fuses her lips with his, and feels his warmth coating her walls. 

“I love you, Gilbert Blythe. Please don’t break my heart,” she pleads, gasping. This euphoria, she is never going to feel the same with another. It is only him. 

His eyes shine with tears, as he is finally home. “I love you, Anne Blythe. In this lifetime and the next, I will always love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because everybody deserves some Monday Motivation. I write crap angsty smut. And this is just a filler before we go back to our regular program. Can smut be a filler? I swear I'll get back to your comments, I love reading and imagining the emotions that come with your caps locks and nonsensical letters! 
> 
> Our country's current COVID-19 curve is fluctuating which is not a good sign. Be a champ and stay home. :)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I'm updating? 
> 
> To my friends all over the world, stay strong. Fight against racism. I am blessed to be born in a multicultural and multiracial country, where unity has been ingrained in our blood from the beginning. But of course, there are flaws which still need improvement. We bleed the same red, we cry the same tears = we are equals.

Her eyes flutter open. 

There is a warmth surrounding her. Literal, comforting warmth. The weight enveloping her is pleasant. A musky smell permeates her senses, reminding her of their acts yesterday, the stickiness in between her legs brings a blush to her cheeks. 

Their legs interlacing together, and his palm, low on her back, is soothing, although he is still asleep, his touch reaffirming. She is brought back to their confessions the night before, the feeling of being with him, to be loved, to be cherished…

She sighs. She brings a hand to her belly. Is there a difference? Is there a seed planted? 

“Good morning, darling,” he murmurs, his voice husky, giving rise to butterflies in her belly. She feels his lips of her forehead, and his hand pulls her closer. He is hard between them, and she blushes, remembering the pleasure he brought her last night. Would it always be like that?

“I’m sorry for its rudeness, darling. Just ignore it,” he mumbles, peppering kisses on her hair, cheeks, eyelids. “How are you feeling?”

Anne giggles at the ticklish feeling of his stubbles on her face. “I’m alright, dearest.” She pulls away slightly, trying to gauge the dreamy hazels this early in the morning. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?” she whispers, biting her lip shyly. 

Gilbert grunts. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please, Gil,” she begs. “It felt so delicious last night, having you inside me,” she confesses, leaning closer as she nips him at his neck. 

He moans, lying on his back as he pulls her on top of him. She squeals in surprise. Her breasts are pressed between them, igniting the fire in his groin. He reaches between them, feeling for her velvety folds, only to find her already ready for him. 

“What are you doing, Gil?” she stammers, her fiery hair creating a canopy around them. 

“Putting you in charge, my wife, since we are a T-E-A-M,” he murmurs, a lazy grin on his face. He rubs gently on the nub between her legs, igniting a sensual moan from her. 

She pushes against his chest, writhing at the sensation elicited by his thumb. He slides in between her lips, the glide leaves her moaning. “Teach me,” she breathes, looking deep into those hazels as she runs both hands through his locks. 

The sun is creeping along the horizon when Gilbert awakes for the second time. He looks down at his wife, halfway slumped against him, her red tresses fanning across his chest. He is still reeling from making love to her last night and this early morning. Waking up to her is simply his dream come true. 

She is finally his, and he is truly hers, in every sense.

She shall wake up soon, and they still have plenty to talk about. 

He is arranging the cups on the tray when he feels a pair of arms wrapped tentatively around his waist. “Good morning,” Anne greets, leaving a kiss in between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry I overslept,” she mumbles, pulling away.

Gilbert chuckles, turning around to catch his wife’s arms in his hands. She is ready for the day, hair up in an intricate updo, her silhouette stunning in a deep forest green gown. “You looked so breathtaking, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

She blushes, a small smile on her lips. She reaches up to adjust his neck tie, before smoothing the lapels. “Thank you for making breakfast,” she adds, standing on her tiptoes to peck on his cheek in gratitude. 

He turns his head to capture her lips with his. They kiss, as he grips on her waist to hold her up against him, careful not to wrinkle her gown. The kiss is chaste, but full of promise. 

“We have a long day, don’t we, sweetheart?” he says, resting his forehead against hers after pulling away. 

She nods, biting her lip. Eyes closed, she runs her fingertips on his chest. “Mr. Keith will come by and you are coming along with Mr. Lawson, aren’t you, dearest?”

He smiles, loving the endearment from her. “Yes, my love.” He runs his hands along her side soothingly. “We need to come up with a plan for Miss Keith, to be discussed with her next of kin.” 

“I’m scared for her, Gil,” Anne confesses, looking up at him with her beguiling eyes. 

“I know you are,” he replies gently. “We will do our best to help her. And later,” he continues, hesitating. “Later, we will talk about us.”

* * *

“Welcome, Mr. Keith. My name is Anne Blythe. I am the principal here in Summerside Public School. I apologise for the short notice,” Anne says, welcoming her guest into the office. 

Mr. Herbert Keith is a tall man, but he has his shoulders hunched forward most of the time. His greying hair peeks from under his hat, and the crow’s feet around his eyes reflect years of hard work. He removes his hat, before bowing slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. Blythe. I heard so much about you from the children. They are very fond of you,” he compliments. 

Anne smiles ruefully. “I am honoured to hear that, Mr. Keith. Please have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the sitting area. Already waiting there are her husband and Mr. Lawrence. “I hope you don’t mind that my husband, Dr. Blythe and the town solicitor, Mr. Lawson, joining us today.”

Mr. Keith shakes his head, although he is clearly confused with the company. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Blythe. Although I have to confess, it is making me slightly anxious,” he confesses. “I hope you don’t mind being truthful and direct to me.”

Anne inhales deeply as she takes a seat facing the gentlemen. She takes a look at her husband, gathering courage. Gilbert nods his head gently. “I am sure you are aware how Theodora was dismissed early from class last week for swooning?” she starts. 

Mr. Keith nods. “Yes. Davie told me about it. I know we don’t have much at home, but I am trying my best to make sure they are well fed,” he admits.

Anne reaches out to pat the man’s hand reassuringly. “I was not insinuating that you are not feeding them enough, Mr. Keith. I am sure you are doing your best,” she says gently. “However, there is another pressing matter at hand.”

“What is it, Mrs. Blythe?” he asks, his voice wavering. 

“There is no easy way to convey this to you, but Theodora is with child, and we believe your employer is the father,” Anne relays softly, witnessing as dismay dawns in the old man’s eyes. 

“Are you sure?” he stutters. 

She nods, gesturing to her husband. “My husband was the one who attended to her, chaperoned by me. Mr. Lawson was there as a witness to her confession.”

Mr. Keith breaks down, his hand covering his face as he sobs silently. “I’ve failed her.”

Anne’s heart breaks. She is reminded of her own old man, who is the best man she knows. Her own eyes are watering. She longs to be enveloped in the warmth of her husband’s embrace, but it is important not to make it about her, or them. It is about Dora, a girl wronged by a man, the adult, who should have known better. 

“I had my suspicions,” Mr. Keith continues. “But I did not have any proof. And I thought I needed the job.” He shakes his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No job is worth risking my family.”

“We understand your predicament, Mr. Keith. We are here to help you and Dora through this,” Gilbert speaks, turning his body to face the man. 

Mr. Keith nods gratefully. “I am not sure how I will face her after this,” he confesses. 

“Mr. Keith,” Mr. Lawson interjects. “I am sorry to be meeting in this circumstances. But if I may?” The old man nods again. “I would like to inform you that Miss Keith has been wronged, and as a child, she has her rights protected under the Criminal Code Law, Offences Against Morality.”

Mr. Keith shakes his head. “I understand the lot of you are new to town, and you do not know the workings of this town. The Pringles are royalty. I can’t go against them.”

“It is a serious offence, Mr. Keith. We are in the twentieth century, and more and more people are aware of their rights. Riches and nobilities are not immuned to the law,” Anne urges. “Think about the young girl whose future is uncertain because of men like these.”

“Of course, in looking for justice for Miss Keith, we will protect her dignity at all cost,” Mr. Lawson adds. 

“All that is good and well, but there is the question of affording your fees, Mr. Lawson,” Mr. Keith admits, looking down at his palms. “I want to do the best for Dora, but it is simply impossible.”

“Mr. Keith, I do pro bono cases regularly on top of my other duties to the society,” Mr. Lawson explains. “You can rest easy about money.”

“My wife and I will provide support in any means necessary, Mr. Keith,” Gilbert adds. “Please know, you can count on us.”

* * *

The door closes behind them with a silent thud. 

“Can you hug me, please?” Anne beseeches. 

Gilbert places his briefcase on the floor and opens up his arms to her. She falls dutifully into his embrace. They stand together, her cheek pressed against his chest, for a long time. 

“So that you know, having you in my arms is my source of comfort too, my love,” he whispers into her ear. 

Anne pulls away gently. Their eyes meet. “Like how a team should be, providing comfort to each other?” she says shyly. 

He nods, smiling. “Exactly.” He rubs her back soothingly. “What can I do to ease your burdened heart, Anne? A cup of tea? Some hot soup, maybe?”

“You have to stop treating yourself as my personal chef, dearest,” she chides gently. “And I don’t think I can eat,” she admits. 

Gilbert nods. He pushes a stray auburn curl behind her ear. “I understand. What do you want, then?”

She looks up into his gentle eyes. Ruby was right. Such gorgeous shade, full of romance. “I want to feel safe,” she whispers. “_You_ make me feel safe,” she continues, trying to be brave by conveying her want with her eyes. 

Gilbert swallows as he recalls the memory of last night. “We still need to talk,” he pleads, although his arms are tightening around his wife. He wants to do her right.

Anne is not helping, as she is already pushing his coat off his shoulders. His tie goes off next, as she slowly unbuttons his shirt. “There is tomorrow, Gil.” She leans up on her tiptoes, as her fingers transfer to her own blouse to unbutton it. A whisper of a kiss on his jaw. “Make love to me, Gil. Make me yours again.”

Another day won’t hurt, he reassures himself. He bends down to gather his wife in his arms, and they disappear into the darkness of their room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel Dora's situation is better explained in Jeffrey Epstein's Filthy Rich. Currently available on Netflix. It comes with a warning though: it may be a cause of trigger to some individuals. I urge you all to watch it to fully understand sexual assault in adolescents, sexual grooming, statutory rape, and consent. We need understanding, not victim blaming.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took forever! Hope somebody is still reading this...

“She was delivering my transcript. I left before the university could issue an official one,” Gilbert blurts out, unable to keep the anxiety any longer. 

Anne’s finger, which was creating circle around his belly button, stops. 

“How kind of her,” she remarks carefully. “You were there for five years. You could not wait a few more days?”

“Tickets across the Atlantic are expensive, and I tried my best to get the cheapest when it first went on sale,” he explains. “I estimated my graduation day to be on early June and bought the fare for mid June, however, it was postponed.”

She nods, pulling her hand away. 

“I wanted to get back to you as quickly as I could, Anne,” he confesses. “I was missing you so much, five years was a long time. There were times I panicked as I was struggling to remember the exact shade of your hair,” he says ruefully, twirling a strand of fiery locks around his finger.

Anne blushes. She contemplates her questions. There are certain things she wonders, but is not sure if it is going to bring her any peace of mind. What is the use of dredging up the past? 

She has been doing that and it did not bring her any comfort at all. 

“I know that brilliant mind of yours is reeling with questions, my love,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on her forehead. “Ask away.”

“Did you ever have feelings… for her?” she asks hesitantly. 

He gently dislodges his arms from around her, before sitting up. Their blanket pools around his waist, his magnificent upper body in full display. 

Anne blushes as she hastily sits up, pulling the blanket around her body. “I’m sorry I offended you,” she apologises hurriedly. “Whatever you had between you two was your business, and your business alone.” 

Gilbert reaches out to grasp her hands in his. “Whatever I felt for her did not compare to the magnitude of feelings I had for you,” he utters. “The county fair was our first and only outing in public, and the impact of it was so significant, and it hit my addled brain how it might be perceived by our peers.”

“You asked for Matthew’s cufflinks, Gil,” Anne whispers, looking away. “You wanted to impress her. It must have been at least something.”

“I thought I had to look nice, isn’t that not the social etiquette of an outing? But I did not dress up that day with her specifically in mind, Anne. I knew her parents were coming, I didn’t want to look like a slouch in front of them.”

She nods, looking down at her hands. “It’s okay, Gil. I understand.”

“No, it’s not.” He squeezes her hands. “I didn’t feel the flutter in my belly when I saw her, like the tumbling butterflies I got every time I saw you. I didn’t feel the nervous excitement at the thought of meeting her. In fact, what I felt was pressure, to impress her, and her family.”

“I remember vividly how you looked that day, Anne. Your hair was down, so striking against the blue dress. I wanted to run my hair through your hair so badly. You rendered me speechless sometimes, Anne, I was so enamoured by you.”

Anne blushes, looking down at their joined hands. “That was the day I wanted to confess to you. So I wanted to look my best,” she confesses. 

Gilbert freezes. “You- you wanted to confess to me?” he stutters. 

She nods shyly. “i had an epiphany of sorts after the dance rehearsals.” She recalls the day, with a bit of dismay, as that day comes back to her as the first time she had experienced heartbreak. She shakes her head. “That day was so long ago though,” she continues, smiling ruefully. 

He looks down at their hands, shaking his head, his bottom lip trembling. Anne panics. With her free hand, she cups his chin. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. “Why are you crying, dearest?” she asks, perplexed. 

“Because of my stupidity, we missed out on each other for years, my love,” he croaks. “It makes me so sad to think of all the things that could have been,” he sniffles. “You were so courageous, Anne, and I couldn’t even bring myself to speak to you about my feelings for you, not until it was too late.” 

Anne’s heart breaks at the sight of her husband crying. His broad shoulders, so tough and strong, sag and he heaves out a sigh. She reaches up to run her hand through his soft curls, bringing his forehead down for a kiss. “Shh, it’s okay, Gil,” she coaxes. 

“No, it isn’t. If you have had feelings for me since the county fair, I must have broken your heart when you saw me with Winnie. You captivated me so during the dance too, and I should have been braver and talked to you, instead of inviting another girl to the fair.”

Anne’s face softens. “And I should not have been too harsh on you, Gil. It’s perfectly fair for you to be with Winnie, because you didn’t know of my affections for you.”

“But if I could have been braver, Anne! I was in love with you for years at that point, why was I so stupid as to ignore my own feelings and let you go so easily?”

Her gaze is gentle as she rubs her thumb on his cheek. “No use crying over the past, Gil,” she soothes.

He nods, his sobs coming to a halt, as he lays his forehead on her neck. After a few minutes of her rubbing his back, he pulls away, a cautious look on his tear-stained face.

“You went to Gardner when he wrote to you,” Gilbert remarks, swallowing hard. “Did you have feelings for him?”

She hesitates. “For a fraction of time, yes.”

Gilbert’s face falls for the umpteenth time that night. 

“I didn’t say that to hurt you,” she adds hastily. “I went five years without any attention of the male variety. My friends were getting married left and right,” she continues, looking away. “Little did I know, you have staked your claim, so to speak,” she says, smiles softly.

“I was desperate. I was leaving town and I wanted to make my intentions known, but you were missing and I didn’t know what to do. So I recruited Moody to spread the word that we were courting.”

“I was raised by Marilla not to be vain. But it felt like I was not good enough for anybody. I was turned down by the kindest man, so I did not have much of an esteem left when it came to love. When Roy came, I was flattered by his attention,” Anne confesses. 

“The kindest man?” he asks, fearful of her answer. Is there another man who has captured his beloved’s heart?

“You, Gil. It was you,” she confesses. “After the fair, I tried to confess my love to you again in the letter I told you about, the day after the bonfire. I was drunk when you came to me that night.”

“I swear to you, Anne, I didn’t receive any letter from you. If I did, I would have run straight to you, my love.”

“It’s alright. Past is past, remember?” she repeats, squeezing his hand in hers. She looks at him cautiously. He nods grimly for her to continue. 

Anne sighs. She looks away, afraid to see the disappointment in her husband’s eyes. “Roy fed my ego. He was not you. I thought it was a good thing. I didn’t want anything to do with you,” she admits quietly.

A few seconds pass before he brings their joint hands to his lips. “Did you love him?”

She shakes her head, this time, looking at him directly in the eye, so there will be no more misunderstanding between them. “No. Because he was not you,” she reaffirms. “No matter how much I tried to unlove you, your heart, your kindness, your words, your wisdom, reeled me back in.” Her voice softens and her gaze drifts lower. “Not to mention, your beautiful eyes, your splendid chin, your kissable lips…”

It goes without saying he attacks her with his lips, capturing hers, as he kisses her senseless. He pulls away after a few minutes, leaving her panting, lips bruised. There is a satisfaction seeing her heaving bosom, breathless from his kiss, but she needs to know. She needs to know she is the love of his life. 

They still have some more straightening out before they can eventually move on from their past.

“Why didn’t you read any of mine, Anne?” he whispers, trying his best to hide his anguish but to no avail. 

She looks at him, her face brave to face her past mistakes. “I did not want to read about how happy you were with Winifred. I could not fathom why you would write to me when you were engaged to another. And perhaps, I was still mad at you for callously ignoring my letter,” she admits. “Little did I know. I am deeply sorry, Gil,” she begs. 

“If you could forgive my past transgression, why should I begrudge you this, Anne?” he replies, cradling her face. “In light of our disclosure, you need to know, you are my life, Anne, from the moment you hit me in the face with your slate.”

She laughs, despite the tears pooling in her eyes. “And you need to know, you are my life too, Gilbert Blythe. I am sorry it took me so long to realise it.”

He shakes his head, kissing her on her cheeks, her brows, and finally, he lays a sweet kiss on her lips. “As long as we are here now, the journey has been worth it, Anne Blythe,” he whispers, his hazel eyes full of love for his wife. 

She giggles. “It makes the schoolgirl in me so happy to hear my married name on your lips,” she gushes. 

He grins. “It makes the schoolboy in me so happy to have you share my name,” he adds, pulling her closer into his arms. “What do you say, Mrs. Blythe? Should we exercise our marital relations again?” he asks nonchalantly, as his hands creep up to squeeze her bosom tantalisingly. 

She moans and nods. “I say, I second the motion, Dr. Blythe.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad that was out of the way! Now on to salacious love letters, helping the needy and conquering the world, Blythe style!


End file.
